The Boy Becomes A Man
by Vlad Moonshade
Summary: In the eyes of the law, Harry has become a man. However, with the War in full swing, and attacks becoming more violent and more complicated, Harry is going to have to become a man in every sense on the word if he is to emerge triumphant.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: In the eyes of the law, Harry has become a man. However, with the War in full swing, and attacks becoming more violent and more complicated, Harry is going to have to become a man in every sense on the word if he is to emerge triumphant. Not that this is always his biggest priority- staff changes at Hogwarts, N.E.W.T. exams and Quidditch still compete for equal attention. Whilst political clashes, prophecies, death, deception, anger and love abound, Harry begins to wonder if he is the only sane person left in the wizarding world.  
>Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.<br>Author's Notes: This is the not-so-long awaited sequel to 'The enigma of the night- I'd suggest reading that first, otherwise much of this story won't make a great deal of sense.  
>Thanks to everyone who was interested enough in 'The enigma of the night' and asked me when this sequel would be up- I hope you're all pleased with the results... Oh, and review. Please. It's good for the soul. Or is that tea?<p>Chapter One: The Boy Becomes a Man<p>

Harry stood in his pyjamas and looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror of his bedroom at number four, Privet Drive. He didn't look any different than yesterday, nor did he really feel any different. Yet the letters he held in his hands announced otherwise.

Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,

On behalf of the Ministry for Magic, we wish to congratulate you on reaching your seventeenth birthday, and therefore becoming an adult, in the eyes of the law. As a legal adult, you are no longer subject to the rules of underage magic, and are therefore free to use magic to aid and assist you throughout your day-to-day life.

You are subject to the laws and by-laws of our nation, and use of certain spells at certain times will lead to prosecution. Please ensure you read the accompanying leaflet; 'Your Magical Rights- What's Legal, What's Not', for further clarification.

Yours Sincerely,

Arthur Weasley, Minister for Magic

Underneath this was a hand written message:

Congratulations, Harry, hope you have an excellent birthday- Arthur

Harry smiled. He had heard from Ron already that his father had been voted in as the new Minister for Magic, but this letter somehow made it so much more real. He smiled, and flipped to the next letter.

Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,

We would like to announce that as of 31st July 1997, the trust left in the care of Mr. Remus John Lupin for you by Mr. Sirius Black is now available for you to view (although not to withdraw from), in accordance with the late Mr. Black's wishes. If you have any questions, please contact us at our London branch for further details. In the meantime, the said trust amount has been added to your Gringotts account as a frozen asset, due for activation on the 31st July 1998. Please find enclosed the lease details for 12 Grimmauld Place, as instructed by Mr. Black (deceased).

Yours Sincerely,

Graham Iscariot, M.D. of the W.F.A.

'We help you Rest In Peace of mind

Harry didn't smile as much at this. It was true what they said- birthdays and Christmases were the worst when you had lost a loved one. He didn't feel as dreadful as he had last year, but Harry found he still missed Sirius. Save for the odd photograph, he only had memories now, but, he reflected, they were mostly good ones, in their own way. Besides, Sirius wouldn't want Harry to mope around on his birthday, especially when that birthday was his coming of age.

He flipped to the last letter.

Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,

You may already have won 10,000 Galleons in our Clairvoyants' Compendium prize draw!...

Harry stifled a laugh- it was still early in the morning, and the longer the Dursleys remained asleep, the better as far as he was concerned. That final letter was the one that had proven without a shadow of a doubt he had become a legal adult- junk mail and credit card offers were some of the many responsibilities one had to bear when becoming an adult in the Muggle world, he mused, and it appeared that the wizarding world was not much different. He was about to put it in the bin, but then he hesitated, and reached for his wand.

"Evanesco," he announced, albeit quietly. The letter promptly vanished. Five minutes later, no owl from the Ministry had arrived. Harry breathed deeply.

"I could get used to this," he thought, stretching his arms above his head. He took once last look at the skinny, short youth- no, adult, that reflected back at him, before pulling some clothes out of his trunk in order to get dressed.

He had opened his presents already- there was a time and a place to act like a grown-up, and the unwrapping of gifts was not one of them. He was especially pleased with Ron's once-again excellent choice in wizarding confectionary, and Hermione's book entitled 'Pass the Apparition Test First Time!' had certainly reminded him that he was quite desperate to take the test. Lupin's rather strange gift of a trunk with five different locks, each of which, when unlocked, opened a different compartment, seemed to be influenced by Mad-Eye Moody's own seven-lock model. Harry had already stored his mother's diaries in the chamber linked to the fourth lock, and the lease to 12 Grimmauld Place in the third, hoping he could take the trunk to Hogwarts in place of his old one- it would certainly make hiding some of his sensitive correspondence a little easier. He didn't relish the prospect of anybody getting hold of his mother's diaries, nor his letters from the Wizarding Financial Affairs company concerning the money and estate Sirius had left him. He especially didn't relish the prospect of anybody discovering any of the correspondence he could be receiving from Persephone Beauchamp, the half-sister with whom he had been recently reunited. If anyone found out that she was Snape and his mother's illegitimate child... well, he didn't really want to think about the consequences. Acute embarrassment from all parties involved was the very least of their troubles. Imminent death for both Beauchamp and Snape alike at the hands of furious Death Eaters was the very worst, and as much as Harry and Snape shared a mutual loathing for each other, he did rather like his sister.

At that moment, Harry heard a tapping on his bedroom window. Looking up, he saw a rather unremarkable looking tawny owl flapping in front of the glass, and he ran to undo the lock that kept the window bolted shut. On doing so, the owl flew into his room, dropped a letter neatly into his hand and, before Harry even got the chance to open Hedwig's cage to offer it some water, flew off into the distance.

"How very clandestine," Harry thought, before a frown pulled at his facial muscles. "How very much like the Brethren of Tyr!"

Eagerly, he tried to open the envelope, but it seemed impenetrable. He pulled out a pen-knife (another birthday gift from Ron, who had claimed he had bought it for Harry about five months ago, simply because he was legally allowed to, having turned seventeen himself in March) and tried to tear through the letter that way, but to no avail. He sighed, and inspected the envelope more closely. Soon enough, he spotted a circle of metallic blue ink, with the words 'press me' printed underneath in what looked like Persephone's handwriting, had she taken half an hour to write those two words. Gingerly, he obeyed the instruction, not quite knowing what to expect from his unruly sibling.

The envelope opened up before his eyes, and Harry was able to pull out the letter encased within. He squinted at the spidery writing- this was more like Persephone's hand.

Dear Harry,

How are things? I'm good- my field trip to the Ministry earlier this month was fun. I met many of the Ministry personnel, including the Head of Law Enforcement and the previous Misuse of Muggle Artefacts officer. I liked them both, but I'm glad the latter got where he is today, if you get my drift. One of our lot has been posted to fill his previous position- I think Arthur may well be expanding her office, though! Plus, he's taken the Brethren of Tyr off the Ministry's 'Most Wanted' list, which is good news for us all (I'm gutted we only made number twenty four, though- I presume the fact that Fudge thought us to be a myth had a bearing on that ranking).

Dolores Umbridge doesn't like me, I'm sad to say. Perhaps I'm being oversensitive, but I think it might be because I suggested she ought to be removed from her job as assistant to the Minister for Magic and side posted into Magical Games and Sports- what do you think?

'Operation Dog Star' isn't going quite so well at the moment. Arthur naturally agrees with me over the situation of Sirius' innocence- however, proving that innocence is becoming trickier than I first anticipated. Don't worry, though, I'll find a way, somehow. I did find records of your- ahem- misdemeanours concerning underage magic whilst conducting my research, though. I was reminded of those memories of yours- the one of that fat hairy woman floating through the air, and you lighting your wand when it was lying on the ground. I've got to thinking about that- I'll tell you more when I've spoken to a man about a job, as it were. Don't want to get your hopes up unnecessarily...

Apparently, Tonks was telling me, I'll be breaking the curse of the Defence Against the Dark Arts job at Hogwarts in September, all going well, of course. For the first time, you'll have the same teacher twice in a row- just so you know; I do accept bribes for good marks. Sorry, just joking, that's never going to happen. Plus, I can see you're pretty hot stuff when it comes to the old D.A.D.A., and most of your class fare really well too, which does mean I'm going to be working your little noses to the grindstone, so be warned!

Oh yes, that other thing- Happy Birthday! My, my- Little H has become a man. I'm going to have to revise my nickname for you, aren't I? Anyway, I thought I'd pop round later on to give you your present in person- and you'd better like it, because it was rather tricky to get hold of! Don't worry about your Aunt and Uncle throwing a tantrum at some uninvited witch entering their house- I've got that all sorted, you just wait and see. It'll be tip-top fun, I'll tell you that for nothing.

See you soon,

Love, Persephone

X x x

Harry sniggered, though he knew he should be more concerned. Although he knew Persephone to be one of two Heads of Information for the Brethren of Tyr, and part of her job description involved infiltrating numerous organisations and gangs, he still dreaded to think what Persephone had cooked up for her upcoming little visit. She did seem to have a knack for getting right into the thick of any havoc that might be occurring within the vicinity, and enjoying it.

Looking across at his new five-lock trunk, Harry remembered she did have a knack for giving out useful advice, too. She had told him earlier this year that he ought to forget about his mother's relationship with his most hated teacher at Hogwarts, else he'd most likely drive himself up the wall. And, in a manner hardly befitting his new adult status, he was going to ignore her wise counsel.

Unlocking the trunk, he justified his actions. He really did need to know what happened, not just with Snape, but also with his dad, with her friends... he just needed to know something about his mother. His Aunt Petunia was unlikely to know anything about Lily Potter's life as a witch, and if she did, she'd hardly share it with him. He lifted out the thin red volume dated '1974-1975' and flicked through the pages, until he came to the bit he had been unable to read for the past few months.

06/01/75

It took me all day to find the bastard! That's just typical of boys; they're just never around when you want them. I took the test this morning- I'd been putting it off all through the holidays, but the weight I've gained on my stomach I just knew had nothing to do with over-indulgence during Christmas, and that pink stick staring me in the face merely confirmed it. I'm pregnant. At fifteen. What the hell is going to happen to me? Do people ever get pregnant at fifteen? What do they do about it here? I know my mum would do her nut if I told her, but maybe they're even worse here in the wizarding world! Perhaps I should just drink some gin and take a hot bath... except I'm too young to buy alcohol. Where's the logic in that? I'm too young to drink, but I'm apparently old enough to bring a life into the world.

I considered not telling Severus. I suppose I could have got rid of it- checked into some Muggle clinic and had the whole thing taken care of, with nobody being any the wiser. But I don't know- I felt he ought to know. I'm not sure if I wanted to punish him, or let him know he'd got me into this mess too, but I resolved to find him and tell him.

It took long enough, I can tell you. I eventually found him after dinner, and told him I needed to speak with him in private. He grumpily agreed, and kept rubbing his temples as though he were suffering from a migraine. I studied him as he walked outside; his shoulders hunched as though he were ashamed of his height, and I wondered what on earth possessed me to sleep with him. I hadn't drunk that much, really. He sat down, leaning against a nearby tree; his arms folded, and stared at me.

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding rather sulky. I stuttered and stammered my way to an explanation- I just couldn't get the words out. They stuck in my throat.

"Look, if you've got something to say, just come out and say it!" he demanded, looking around nervously. It was as though he was scared people would see him with me. That gave me the push to tell him- if he's so embarrassed to be near me, see how he likes me carrying his child!

"I'm pregnant," I said, as calmly as I could. He stared at me for a moment as though I'd just spontaneously combusted on the spot. Then he rubbed his eyes, and stared at me again. He said nothing for what seemed like ten minutes. Eventually he managed to stammer out, "Why are you telling me this?"

I rolled my eyes- I mean, why did he think I was telling him- for fun?

"So, it's mine, then," he said. It sounded more like a statement, really, but it felt like a question to me, and I snapped at him.

"Of course it is! I don't go around having sex with every boy in Hogwarts, you know!"

He visibly cringed at this, and the look on his face made me feel sick to my stomach. He stared at the grass and wouldn't even look at me, and I just couldn't bear it, but I remained silent.

"So, what are you going to do?" he asked, quietly. I shrugged.

"Don't know. I can't exactly keep it."

He looked up at me on hearing this.

"It's a child, not a pet rabbit," he replied, viciously. I couldn't help myself, and I just slapped him across the face as hard as I could, and screamed at him. How dare he say that to me! As though I don't know how serious this all is- I'm the one that's carrying this damnable thing! I just want it to go away! It shouldn't be in me...

I don't know how long I ranted on like that, but eventually, he leapt up from where he was seated and grabbed me by the arms.

"Then why tell me?" he shouted back. "You've already made your mind up as to what you're going to do- why drag me into this? It'd have been kinder not to tell me..." He stared at me as though he were scrutinising my insides, and I felt queasy. His voice was quieter, but no less angry. "That's why you told me. You wanted me to know... you wanted to hurt me like this..."

"Oh, of course, because it's all about you, naturally!" I shouted back, but he cut across me.

"You wanted to rub my nose in it, and have the satisfaction of telling me, 'hey, guess what? I'm carrying your daughter, but I'm going to kill her!' Don't you dare talk to me about selfishness!"

He tried to storm off, but I stopped him. Not because I was angry at him- even though I was- but because of two words. Daughter. Her. How could he know it was a girl? How could he know that, when I didn't?

He tried to wriggle out of the question, but eventually he sat back down and admitted to me he had been learning Legilmency from a book he'd borrowed from home. The problem was, he had got to the stage where he could perform it, but was having difficulty controlling it.

"I can sense her in there," he whispered. "She's just a blob of cells at the moment, really, but I can just tell she's going to be a girl."

We sat in silence for a while after that. In spite of myself, I kind of felt guilty for having wanted to get rid of her. In fact, I wasn't sure now if I did, after hearing that. Knowing there's a little girl inside... somehow it makes it all more real.

"What are we going to do?" I sighed. "If I carry this baby, I'll get kicked out of school for sure..."

To his credit, Severus looked suitably guilty upon hearing this.

"I... I'm sorry. I... I didn't really think about that," he whispered back. Then he fell deep into thought again, and I felt as though I was sitting out here in the dark all alone.

Suddenly, he clicked his fingers.

"I think I may have an idea... I need to speak to someone first; would you be able to meet me in the Ravenclaw Common Room late tonight? I'll explain everything then, once I know it has a chance of working."

I was very confused by this remark, but I agreed, and he gave me the password to the common room, which was 'Pygmalion'. Soon after this, he suddenly sat bolt upright, and tried to press himself flat against the tree. I rolled my eyes.

"If you're so ashamed of being around me, I'll just hide myself, shall I?" I remarked, getting up from the grass, but he grabbed my arm.

"Now who thinks it's all about them, huh?" he retorted. I glared at him, and he sighed, hunching up his shoulders again.

"Fine. I'm hiding from that Bancroft girl..."

"Penny?" I asked. He nodded.

"Why?"

His cheeks turned a deep red at this, and he coughed. "She... erm, well... she seems to be... She's got a crush on me."

I couldn't help it, and burst out laughing. Severus looked rather cross.

"Thanks, I didn't think it was quite that funny, myself, though I have had three months of it!" he spat back. I tried to wipe the smile off my face.

"I'm sorry, it just seems so odd, that's all... Are you sure?" I asked. He looked at me and pulled a face, then fished inside his bag for something. He pulled out a bunch of envelopes, which I took off him. There must have been at least six, and they were wrapped up in layers of spellotape, which I tried to peel off.

"Don't do that!" he barked, his eyes wider than two galleons. I stopped.

"Why?"

He looked really concerned. "Because, they have this tendency to open up and sing poetry at you! I'm telling you, they're spell-proof. This has been about the only way I've managed to keep them quiet. If I try to throw them away, they just follow me back! I've thought about burning them, but I'm scared they might release evil fumes!"

"Oh come on," I tried to encourage him, "they're probably sweet. I mean, six love poems..."

"Oh, that's just today's lot," he retorted, huffily.

"Why don't you just tell her you're not interested?" I asked. It seemed perfectly logical to me. Severus, however, just rolled his eyes at me in exasperation.

"Do you think I haven't tried? I tell her almost every day! I've said 'I'm not interested,' dozens of times. I've tried 'Just leave me the hell alone!' at least twenty. Most often, though, I just say 'no,' but she's more determined than Filch is in giving out detentions! I've tried almost every hex I can think of- I must have made her cry at least five times in the last term, but she still won't give up!" His voice was growing steadily more manic with every word, before he jumped up onto his feet.

"It's her," he whispered, pointing into the distance. He looked at me manically, and said, "You haven't seen me, and you don't know where I am! Please?"

"Oh, all right," I sighed, though personally I thought he was being rather mean to the little girl. The relief on his face was palpable.

"Thanks, Lily," he replied, "and remember, come and meet me in the Ravenclaw Common Room tonight! It'll all be all right." Then he ran off, presumably to find somewhere to hide.

I wish I could be as confident as him about everything being all right. Then, I suppose he's not the one that's got to carry this child for nine months, and hide it from just about everyone.

Then, and this was the best bit, I bumped into Penny Bancroft. She's in the first year, in Hufflepuff house and is quite a cute little thing, I guess. Well, she's blonde and rather small, even for a first year, and she was carrying some sort of pink heart-shaped pillow, I think. It had writing embroidered all over it, and judging from the sloppy stitching, I think she'd made it herself.

"Lily! Have you seen Severus at all?" she asked me, sweetly. Biting my lip in an attempt not to laugh, I shook my head and told her no. She frowned, as though she were thinking hard.

"Do you know where he might be? He is in your year," she said. I told her that, no, I didn't, but I felt so sorry for the poor girl that I suggested he might be in the library.

"Oh, no, he couldn't possibly be there," she replied, breezily. "He leaves the library by eight o'clock on Mondays, and he goes to the owlery on Wednesdays at around six..."

She rattled off his entire school timetable with ease, as well as where he spends his evenings depending upon the day. If only I'd known Severus had a stalker this morning- I would have found him in half the time if I'd struck up a conversation with Penny...'

"Potter! Your Aunt Marge is coming for lunch, so you'd better make yourself look presentable!" Aunt Petunia bellowed, from the foot of the stairs. Harry groaned. The Dursleys were clearly up and about, and what had started out as a fairly bearable birthday had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. His Aunt Marge was possibly one of humanity's greatest mistakes, and she was coming to number four Privet Drive. Just great.

He placed the diary back into his five-lock trunk and shut it away, before walking over to the mirror and attempting to brush his hair down. He knew before he ever started that the attempt would be in vain, and three minutes later he gave up. Aunt Marge would just have to accept his naturally wayward hair, and besides, he was an adult now. He could have scruffy hair if he so desired. Placing his hand on the door handle, Harry opened his bedroom door and made his way downstairs to face the music.

Uncle Vernon was wolfing down a cooked breakfast, but stopped long enough to accuse Harry of being a freeloader and not pulling his weight. Harry simply smiled a wicked smile.

"I could tidy up for you, if you like," he said, and pulled out his wand. Uncle Vernon glared at him with horror, as though Harry had pulled something completely different out from his trousers at the dinner table.

"You can't use that... that thing!" he barked. "That freaky school of yours would expel you!"

Harry looked Uncle Vernon in the eye.

"No, they wouldn't. I'm seventeen now; in the wizarding world, I'm a legal adult, and therefore perfectly within my rights to use magic whenever I like," he replied, sitting down and helping himself to some toast, whilst Uncle Vernon turned an odd shade of purple, and a small vein began to throb noticeably on his temple, though he remained oddly silent. On seeing this, Harry thought it best to keep quiet for the rest of breakfast.

"You just make sure you don't do any of that funny stuff under my roof!" Uncle Vernon ordered. Harry nodded his consent, but said nothing in return.

"Mum! Is my shirt ready yet?" Dudley bellowed from the top of the stairs.

"It'll be ready in a few moments, darling!" Aunt Petunia shouted back, as she hurriedly opened out an ironing board and placed a blue shirt across it that was so vast, it made the ironing board look like a tent. A small click indicated the iron resting on the tabletop had reached the required temperature, and Aunt Petunia grabbed it and pressed the fabric of Dudley's shirt with the speed of an expert. Harry watched her and couldn't help but chuckle to himself at what Aunt Petunia's reaction to her hitherto undiscovered niece would be if she met her as she was now. Somehow, he couldn't picture a happy meeting between Persephone and Aunt Petunia. Harry wondered if she had even known about his mother having another child. It occurred to him that he really didn't know how much of his mum's life Aunt Petunia knew about, or indeed, how much of Aunt Petunia's life his mum knew about.

Aunt Petunia continued to iron frantically at Dudley's blue shirt, her shoulders growing increasingly tense as she did so. Eventually, she turned around and glared at Harry.

"What is it, boy?" she snapped, angrily. Harry shrugged.

"Nothing," he replied, and continued to eat his toast.

A series of loud thuds echoed across the ceiling, then down the stairs. Clearly, Dudley wanted his shirt back.

"Is it ready, Mum?" he asked, running through the kitchen in his jeans and socks. Harry had to suppress a smirk as he watched the rolls of fat around Dudley's large stomach wobble with his every movement, as though he were a walking lava lamp. It looked especially odd, because from the chest upwards, he was a mass of solid muscle.

"If only he could learn to box with his stomach," he thought, maliciously. Clearly Steve, that savage part of his brain, was here to stay throughout adulthood, too.

"Not yet, sweetheart, just give me a few seconds..."

"But I need it now!" Dudley retorted, as though the ironing of his shirt was a matter of national security. Harry presumed he had a date with Tina, the girl he was seeing last summer. However, it turned out to be even worse than that.

"We won't embarrass you when Tina comes to meet us, sweetheart!" Aunt Petunia cooed. "Besides, she isn't due here for at least a couple of hours- you want to spend some time with your Aunt Marge first, don't you, darling?"

Dudley grunted something non-committal, grabbed his shirt off the ironing board, slipped it over his bulky shoulders and stomped off to his bedroom. Harry merely sipped his orange juice. So, Tina was meeting the family. It must be serious. He wondered if she'd end up dating Dudley long enough to learn of their shameful family secret of having a wizard in the family, and one that is on the 'Most Wanted' list of the most feared Dark wizard of the Twentieth Century. He couldn't help but smile at this.

"Get out, Tina, while you still can," he said to himself.

There had been precious little information of Voldemort's attacks on the Muggle news, though Persephone had told Harry that the Prime Minister had been in talks with Arthur Weasley. The decision to tell him had been one of the first Arthur had made when he stepped into his new Minister for Magic office, and it was this that had made Alex Ridley in particular, very happy indeed. The decision to make that information more public seemed to be one either not yet made, or it had been decided that- whatever the major luxury chocolate companies implied in their adverts- ignorance is bliss. Hermione had taken advantage of her subscription to the Daily Prophet by sending on the copies she had finished with to him, but there hadn't been a great deal in there, either. There had been numerous public safety advisory articles on what to do if faced with a Dementor, and emergency incantations to summon Aurors if you or your family are attacked by Death Eaters, but no real information on what Voldemort was planning. Harry supposed this made sense, really- why would you print your war tactics in a national newspaper, unless you were planning for the enemy to read up on them with his morning cup of tea.

"What are you doing, lazing about down here, go and tidy yourself up, boy!" Uncle Vernon ordered. Harry looked down at himself and shrugged.

"But I am tidied up," he replied. Uncle Vernon scoffed.

"Do something with your hair!" he retorted. Harry sighed.

"I'd been doing something with it for half an hour before I came down to breakfast, this is the best you're going to get, I'm afraid."

Uncle Vernon glared at him in a way that rivalled even Snape during Potions class.

"Get upstairs and tidy yourself up before Marge gets here," he spat. Harry shrugged, and scraped his seat back, before he got out of the chair and headed up to his bedroom.

"Like I'm really desperate to make Aunt Marge happy," he muttered under his breath as he walked through the doorway to the hall.

"What did you say?" Uncle Vernon bellowed after him, but Harry ignored him.

Dudley was leaning against the banister of the landing, a horrible smirk plastered to his face.

"I heard what you were saying to Dad, about being able to... to do freak stuff here now," he announced. Harry looked up at him.

"Really," he replied, with an air of indifference. Dudley glared at him.

"You're a liar!" he shouted, as Harry came up the stairs.

"I'm not, but if you wish to believe I'm a liar, I won't stand in your way," Harry continued, but Dudley blocked his was to the bathroom with his arm.

"Prove it," he threatened. Harry looked at him disdainfully.

"Shouldn't you be making yourself look nice for Tina? That must take a whole morning," he replied, acerbically. Dudley gritted his teeth in anger.

"At least I've had a girlfriend," he retorted. Harry smirked.

"Shows what you know," he spat back, "now move out of the way!"

Dudley smirked.

"Make me," he replied. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he said, and pulled out his wand, pointing it at Dudley, who eyeballed it with a mixture of apprehension and disbelief.

"You won't do it," he continued, though to Harry it sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that fact.

Harry considered whether he really should do anything, but seeing as Dudley wasn't about to move, he decided to do exactly as Dudley had asked. He did decide on using a relatively tame spell, at least.

"Rictusempra!" he commanded, and suddenly, Dudley doubled over in laughter, allowing Harry to get past. As he reached the bathroom, he said, "Finite incantatem!" as he pointed his wand at Dudley. The boy stopped laughing, and got up off the floor, an ugly look of fear and disgust in his eyes. Harry stared at him, then at his wand; he couldn't believe what he had just done. He had just hexed Dudley. Even Steve, that savage part of his brain, seemed to think this was a bad thing. Harry felt awful- he'd never willingly hexed anyone before. Well, except for those Death Eaters in his fifth year at the Department of Mysteries. Oh, and Draco Malfoy- but then he spent so much time taunting Harry, Ron and Hermione that willingly hexing him didn't really count.

"You really are a freak, Potter," Dudley whispered. An odd feeling in the pit of Harry's stomach preoccupied him for just a second upon hearing Dudley's words, and he realised he had been reminded, yet again, of his place as the wizarding world's last great hope.

"Believe me, you have no idea," he retorted, before locking the bathroom door and attempting to make his unruly hair stick down. It was a pity there didn't appear to be a spell that could manage that seemingly simple task.

Harry went back downstairs ten minutes later, with his hair looking exactly the same as it had when he'd gone up to the bathroom.

"It wasn't for lack of trying," he told himself, before entering the living room. Dudley stared at him, but said nothing, and judging from the calm demeanour of both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, he had said nothing to them, either. He wandered past the television a few times, obscuring it from Dudley, who kept moving his head in irritation in order to get a good view of the screen.

The sound of a car pulling up outside the house, followed by the sound of yapping dogs and the click of high heels indicated to Harry that Aunt Marge had arrived. He felt his heart sink slowly into his stomach as the doorbell went.

"I'll get it!" Dudley announced, running to open the door. Harry rolled his eyes. Dudley was clearly in need of some money for some reason or another, presumably to fund his girlfriend's expensive taste in jewellery. Harry had spied Dudley wrapping up a heart-shaped gold pendant just three days ago, and judging from the grey security tag he had wrenched off the box, he hadn't acquired it by the usual methods.

"Hello, my darling nephew! Haven't you grown!" a familiar voice bellowed excitedly. Harry sighed. Aunt Marge was just the same as he remembered her from four years ago- large, beefy and moustached. She hugged Dudley, slipping him some money as she did so, and thrust her heavy tweed jacket at Harry before walking into the living room.

"Why thank you, Marge- though I think it might be a little too big for me," he called after her, determined not to call her Aunt Marge. Aunt Marge stopped dead in her tracks, and rotated slowly around to face him.

"Hang it up, boy! How dare you cheek me like that?" she demanded, turning a beetroot colour with fury. Harry gave her an ironic bow.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Marge," he said sycophantically, "I assumed from the way you just handed me your coat that you intended me to have it. If you'd just asked me to hang it up for you, it would have saved this rather embarrassing confusion."

He smiled, and made a great show of hanging Aunt Marge's coat up with loving care. She merely grunted, and walked into the living room.

"Hello, Petunia," she boomed, grabbing the woman in a crushing hug, and kissing the air next to her bony cheek. Vernon rushed to greet her.

"Hello, Marge," he boomed, hugging her with an equal force to the one she used to hug him. Eventually, they let go, and Aunt Marge sat down on one of the chintz sofas in the living room, taking up half of it with her impressive girth.

"I see that Potter boy has got no better- worse, if you ask me. I've only just stepped in the house, and he's cheeking me left, right and centre. You should be so glad you've got such a lovely boy in Dudley, Petunia," she ranted. Harry suppressed a snigger at this remark- Dudley the shoplifting bully, what a son to be proud of!

Petunia sighed.

"Oh, I know, Marge, but I can't just throw him out..."

Aunt Marge patted her frail arm with her huge, spade-like hand.

"You're a good woman, Petunia, you shouldn't have to be tidying up the mess your sister left behind. Don't worry, he must turn eighteen soon enough- you can kick him out then... oh, Ripper, do behave!" she barked. The aforementioned Ripper was busy trying to chew up the carpet in the corner of the room. Aunt Marge heaved herself out of the sofa with an almighty effort, and grabbed her walking cane. She grabbed the bulldog gently by the scruff of its neck and wagged her finger at it, all the while repeating, "Naughty- that's naughty, Ripper!"

She eventually let him outside into the garden, at which Harry almost sighed loudly with relief, though he caught himself just in time.

"He's getting old, you see, Petunia," Aunt Marge announced, sadly.

It was at this point that Harry noticed a much smaller dog, with white and black patterned fur, that was growling at Aunt Marge's heels. She took her walking stick and swiped at it.

"Gerrout of it, you nasty little thing," she ordered, but the dog paid no attention, and merely chewed her walking stick instead. She tried to shake it off, but the little dog hung off the end of her cane by its teeth. Harry tried not to laugh.

"It's a vile little thing, this one," Aunt Marge complained. "Nasty temperament, and a runty little thing, to boot. There were only two others in the litter, and they didn't survive. I think there must be some sort of inherited disease that affected them. Thought I'd see if I can hand this one over to the dog's home near you... Get off, you stupid mutt!"

The little dog caught Harry's eye. It stopped chewing at Aunt Marge's cane for a moment, then bound towards him. Aunt Marge laughed harshly.

"Let's see how you like it, boy," she spat as the dog careered into Harry's legs. Her grim smile soon vanished, however, as the dog leapt up happily at Harry, who knelt down in an attempt to placate it. The dog licked his face enthusiastically, before nuzzling his lap and curling up in a contented snooze, hiccupping occasionally in its sleep.

"Well, how about that," Aunt Marge commented, clearly befuddled by the whole affair. "The runty little thing's taken a shine to you. Like knows like, I see," she said, darkly. Harry bit back a retort, and instead stroked the soft pink belly of the little dog in his lap, and found the action soothed him.

Petunia got up out of her seat.

"Right, I'm just going to make some tea," she announced, briskly. "What would you like, Marge?"

"Oh, tea please, with milk, but no sugar- I'm sweet enough," she joked. Harry fought back the urge to dry vomit into the nearest receptacle.

"Vernon?"

"Oh, a black coffee, thanks," Uncle Vernon replied.

"Dudley, honey? What would you like?"

"Coffee with sugar, and some biscuits," Dudley replied, his attention fixed on the window, clearly expecting someone.

"Okay, sweetheart," Petunia cooed, before entering the kitchen.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. Dudley jumped out of his seat, brushed down his shirt and checked his reflection in the mirror.

"Don't worry, darling Diddy, you look gorgeous," Harry remarked, blithely. Dudley gave him a withering glance.

"Just shut up, Potter- it's her!" he retorted. Harry smirked.

"Wow, you have psychic abilities, too?" he replied, sarcastically. Dudley glared at him.

"Are we expecting another guest?" he asked mockingly, before bending over so that he was face to face with Harry.

"Do anything stupid, and I'll beat you senseless," he threatened into his ear.

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try," Harry whispered back. Dudley simply glared at him and went to the front door.

Harry heard the door creak open, as well as Dudley's voice as he spoke.

"Hi Ti... Oh, sorry... who are you?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Potter. I believe your parents were expecting me," an all too familiar female voice replied, in clipped tones. Harry felt his eyes widen with horror. He had completely forgot, and she had written just this morning!

The residents of number four Privet Drive were indeed expecting another guest. Persephone Beauchamp. 


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Persephone causes fear and upset for the Dursleys, as the Evans' family secrets are exposed. Harry gets an impressive birthday present... and a nasty surprise when new orders for the Brethren arrive.  
>Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.<br>Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone that's reviewed {carrie and loretta537}- I'm thrilled people have actually been looking forward to this!Enjoy, and give that little blue link at the bottom a workout by reviewing!

Chapter Two: The Summer Guest

"So, can I come in?" the voice continued, in an authoritative manner.

"Erm... Yeah, yes, of course," Dudley stammered, shutting the door behind the guest as she waked into the living room. The entire Dursley household stared at her, Harry included, though his stare was a lot more welcoming than the others. No doubt about it, it was indeed his half-sister, on the visit she had promised just a few short hours ago. Harry wasn't too surprised at the way the Dursleys stared at her, for Persephone was a striking looking woman. She was taller than most men, and very skinny, though without the advantage of looking frail and delicate. She was almost unnaturally pale, and her long black hair, currently pinned back in a bun, emphasised this. Her face was slightly gaunt, with sharp angles and lines, and her cheeks were almost hollow, as though she had chain-smoked for twenty years. In fact, she looked very much like her father, Harry's Potions teacher, except for her nose, which was not as hooked, and her lips, which weren't as thin. The only feature that she and Harry really shared, except for black hair, were large, green eyes. Consequently, this was the only feature she had noticeably inherited from her mother. All in all, she vaguely resembled one of those Muggle fashion models that Petunia often sneered at and wondered why on earth some nutcase had decided they would make good clothes horses, when it was clear that they looked like they had just come off some class A drug.

Harry looked at her with concern, hoping she'd pick up on how dangerous it would be for her to reveal her true relation to him in front of his Aunt Marge. She gave him a small, conspiratorial wink, and Harry's mind was put a little at rest. He was still worried, however, for Persephone was, at best, a loose cannon in any situation. You could never predict exactly what she might do.

"Hello, you must be Mr. Dursley," she said, walking towards Uncle Vernon, who had hastily got up out of his chair and eyed her warily.

"And you are?" he asked. Persephone looked at him as though he were either chronically forgetful, or just stupid.

"Professor Beauchamp," she replied. "Mr. Potter's progress teacher at St. Brutus'- we had an appointment to meet today to discuss his teaching... You do remember, don't you?"

Harry had to bite his knuckles to prevent himself from laughing out loud. Uncle Vernon stared at her, slack jawed, clearly concerned as to who this woman might really be, but unable to demonstrate such concern under the watchful eye of Aunt Marge, who he had convinced for years that Harry was attending St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.

"Of... of course. I apologise- we're in the middle of a family gathering..."

"Oh, that's no problem, Mr. Dursley- I daresay it would be... interesting to meet some of Mr. Potter's home influences," she replied, breezily.

"Please," Uncle Vernon gestured towards the chintz sofa that Aunt Marge was occupying half of. "Do sit down, Professor. I'll just tell my wife that you've... Would you like anything to drink?"

Persephone smiled.

"A tea would be lovely, Mr. Dursley- no milk, no sugar," she replied. Uncle Vernon nodded, and practically ran into the kitchen.

Persephone settled happily into the sofa, and it struck Harry just how easily she blended into the Muggle world. She was dressed in a perfectly normal burgundy trouser suit; her perfectly normal white blouse had clearly been neatly pressed, and her perfectly normal black-heeled boots would not be out of place in any Muggle high street. This must be what it was to be a spy, to look unobtrusive no matter what the situation.

"So, Potter, have you been behaving so far? Not giving your Aunt and Uncle any grief, I hope?" Persephone said, playing up to her new role as St. Brutus' progress teacher. Harry suppressed a smirk.

"Absolutely, Professor," he replied. Aunt Marge tutted.

"That boy is a liar as well as a trouble maker," she commented. Persephone turned to face her.

"And you are?"

"Oh, Marge," she replied, holding out a huge hand. Persephone shook it, and Aunt Marge's arm was jerked up and down.

"That's a healthy handshake you've got there, Professor- you can tell a lot from a person by their handshake," Aunt Marge said, clearly stunned by Persephone's firm grip.

"Ah, well, you have to be firm in my line of work," she replied, though Harry could see she was almost transfixed by Aunt Marge's moustache.

"I'm not surprised," the moustached woman replied, patting the armrest. "With young trouble-makers like Potter here. You know, I blame the parents- there's very little nurture can do when one is so unfortunately afflicted by nature. I breed bulldogs, you see, Professor, I know what I'm talking about."

Persephone pursed her lips.

"Indeed, Marge, I'm sure you do. In fact, we simply don't know what to do with the boy- he constantly flouts school rules, is incredibly nosey, and occasionally even gets into fights at school," she remarked, winking at Harry, who knew everything she had said was true, to some extent.

"To a large extent," Steve pointed out, and Harry was briefly unnerved to learn that his savage side actually had a voice.

"Tell me, Marge," Persephone continued. Aunt Marge leaned over, as though the action demonstrated she was paying more attention.

"Yes?" she asked. Persephone smiled.

"Have you considered bleaching?" she asked, thoughtfully. Aunt Marge looked nonplussed.

"I'm not sure I follow you," she replied. Persephone pointed casually at her upper-lip.

"The moustache, dear. It is rather conspicuous..."

Aunt Marge looked speechless.

"Or maybe waxing," Persephone continued, "you know, it only hurts for a few seconds, then it's gone- like magic."

It was all Harry could do to stop himself from shrieking with hysterical laughter. He daren't look up at Persephone's poker-straight face, nor Aunt Marge's shocked one.

"Well... I'll look into it," she replied, feebly, looking at Persephone, who's facial expression appeared as though she was completely unaware that she might have said something offensive.

"Ooh, what a darling little dog!" Persephone exclaimed, changing the subject. Aunt Marge was instantly more relaxed, and stared out of the window into the back garden.

"Oh, isn't he just- my little Ripper. 'Course, he's getting on a bit now, you know..."

"I meant that one," Persephone interrupted, pointing at the little dog cuddled up next to Harry.

"Oh, that one? Oh, no, no, no- it's an awful little thing," she remarked, sniffily, "Nasty temperament, you see."

Persephone was already on her hands and knees, examining it.

"Hmm- nasty temperament, you say?" she enquired. Aunt Marge nodded.

"Yes, it's quite ferocious around me, and I've never had such problems with all the other dogs I've bred." She got up out of the sofa. "If you'll excuse me a moment, Professor- have to visit the little girls' room," she said, waddling towards the hallway.

Once she was out of earshot, Harry gently punched Persephone's arm.

"You've got some nerve," he said, sniggering. Persephone grinned.

"Admit it, you're enjoying this," she replied, swiftly. Harry smiled back at her, and then turned his attention to her examination of the little dog, who seemed perfectly happy for her to handle it.

"Hmm, this is odd... ah ha!" she announced, suddenly.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Persephone frowned.

"Well, I can tell you why this dog's got such a nasty temperament," she replied. "It's half-Crup."

"Half what?" Harry asked.

"Crup," Persephone replied. "They're a small dog-like species that are very loyal to wizards, but dislike Muggles intensely. It's very possible that one of them had a good time with your aunt's bitch... anyway, see that?" She pointed at the tail, and Harry leant forward to see what she was looking at. Persephone gently pushed her finger against the tip of the dog's tail, and he saw a tiny fork in it.

"Forked tail- the most distinctive sign of a Crup. If they're bred with normal dogs, the fork is less pronounced..."

Aunt Marge re-entered the living room, and saw Persephone stroking the little dog.

"Well, well- it seems to like you," she commented. Persephone smiled.

"Indeed he does," she replied, having worked out the gender with ease. "In fact, if you don't want him, I'd be happy to take him off your hands."

Aunt Marge considered this.

"Well, all right. Give me fifty quid for it- that's less than a fifth of what I usually charge," she replied. Harry tried to let Persephone know that she was planning to take it to the dogs' home anyway, but Uncle Vernon came in at that point, and glared at him, preventing him from speaking to Persephone without it looking too odd.

"Hmm," Persephone appeared to be doing sums in her head. "Fifty pounds, that's... there's about five pounds to the Galleon, so that's... Okay, you've got a deal!" she announced, handing over two twenty pound notes and a tenner.

Aunt Marge, took the money, but frowned.

"Galleons?" she asked. Persephone giggled.

"Oh, I'm sorry- I've been marking the childrens' History projects- I'm afraid I'm still in that old monetary mode," she replied, with a casual air that Harry instantly envied. Aunt Marge appeared satisfied with her answer. Uncle Vernon, however, most certainly wasn't. Any use of 'funny' words from anyone associated with Harry was not to be tolerated, in his book.

"Now look here, whoever you are," Uncle Vernon said, pointing at an unflustered Persephone. "You'd better have a damn good explanation... who are you?"

"I told you, I'm Professor Beauchamp," she replied, breezily.

"She's not lying, you know," Harry ventured, but was glared at by a purpling Uncle Vernon.

"Shut up, you!" he bellowed, before turning back to Persephone.

"Now, what's your name!" he bellowed in her face.

Aunt Petunia entered the room, carrying a tea tray with four cups and a plate of biscuits balancing on it.

"Vernon, what's the matter?" she asked, staring wildly at the scene in front of her.

Persephone looked unimpressed, and wafted her hand in front of her nose.

"My full name, if that's what you want to hear, is Persephone Beauchamp," she replied, airily. Uncle Vernon looked irritated.

"Well, if you're going to play games with me..."

Something interrupted him. It was a loud crash of china. Aunt Petunia has dropped the tea tray and was staring at Persephone as though she were a ghost.

"Perseph... no, no, it can't be... You're... you..."

She sank onto the floor, tea and coffee spilling over the pristine carpet, her face pale and frightened.

"Petunia, what's going on?" Aunt Marge asked, in concerned tones. Persephone was staring at Aunt Petunia with suspicion.

"That's what I'd like to know," she retorted, her steely glare still fixed on a quivering Aunt Petunia.

Uncle Vernon took charge of the situation, and grabbed his sister's arm.

"Come on, Marge, how about I take you shopping, hmm? You did want to buy that new dog kennel, if I recall..."

Aunt Marge gently loosened her arm from Uncle Vernon's vice-like grip.

"It's quite alright, Vernon- I'll go myself. I can see you've got one or two things to sort out," she replied, grabbing her walking cane and entering the hallway. Uncle Vernon brought Ripper in from the garden, put him on his lead, helped Aunt Marge into her coat, and a slam of the door indicated that she had left the house, Ripper in tow.

Dudley, who had been watching the whole scene with interest, looked concerned.

"Mum? What's the matter?" he asked, though Aunt Petunia made no reply. Eventually, she looked up at Dudley.

"Go to your room, Dudley," she replied, quietly.

"But, Mum..."

"Just do it!" Aunt Petunia shouted, and Dudley was shocked enough to obey. He shot Harry a nasty glance before he went upstairs.

Uncle Vernon stood right in front of Persephone again, though he didn't quite reach her height.

"Now," he seethed, "I for one would like to know why you've come in here, upset my wife..."

Persephone waved her hand in front of her face.

"Be quiet, Vernon," she said, brusquely, and to Harry's amazement, he obeyed her. She looked back at Aunt Petunia.

"How do you know me?" she asked, calmly. Aunt Petunia was still shaking.

"You... you died... sixteen years ago..."

Persephone laughed.

"Oh, that!" she replied, airily. "Yeah, well, I didn't stay dead, you see."

Aunt Petunia stared at her as though she were demented.

"You didn't... stay dead?" she stammered. Persephone nodded.

"That's right. It's a funny story, actually..."

Harry interrupted her.

"How do you know her?" he demanded, hotly. Aunt Petunia looked at him, furiously.

"Your mother wasn't as sweet and innocent as you'd like to believe, boy," she spat, viciously. Harry glared at her.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he retorted. Persephone tugged gently at his sleeve.

"I think she might be referring to your mum being a gymslip mother," she replied, softly. Aunt Petunia nodded.

"My parents never found out- they believed Lily's story, that she was merely babysitting the girl for a friend's sister. But I knew the truth. She didn't try to deny it when I confronted her with it," she replied, angrily. Persephone smiled and shook her head.

"Actually, morally speaking, your sister was telling the truth- her friend's sister was my legal guardian..."

Uncle Vernon's neck muscles had gone into mild spasms.

"More freaks! Good God, Petunia, your sister was a menace!" he roared. Harry felt his stomach grow hot with anger, and was about to retort, when he realised he didn't need to. Persephone glared at Uncle Vernon.

"Oh, pipe down, you great lump," she roared back, and Uncle Vernon sat down quietly. Harry couldn't blame him- Persephone just had intimidation down to a fine art, and Harry didn't need to guess hard as to where she had learned it. Snape sprang to mind, closely followed by the Brethren of Tyr.

"I didn't come here to argue my parentage- I came here to give my half-brother his birthday present," she announced, haughtily. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia looked at each other carefully, as though they were both sharing the same thought about the evils of allowing a present for Harry to enter their house. Persephone rolled her eyes, and handed Harry a long, oblong package that was wrapped with shiny silver paper printed with dozens of number seventeens, each of which were blue in colour and danced energetically around the paper. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia looked deeply offended by the decorative effect.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," she said, as Harry took the parcel and sat down to open it.

"Thanks, Persephone," he replied. Persephone laughed.

"Hang on- you don't know what it is yet," she joked. Harry smiled at her, and cautiously unwrapped the parcel.

"It's not going to explode, you know," Persephone remarked, sitting down opposite him on the carpet. Harry cocked his head.

"Coming from you, Persephone, I expect the unexpected," he replied. Persephone seemed to find this comment most amusing.

"But, if you're expecting it, it's no longer unexpected- and then the things you were expecting before become unexpected themselves," she commented. Harry was at a loss as to what he could say to this, so he merely continued to pull the wrapping paper away from his present.

A long, slender purple leather case sat in his hands. Gingerly, he flicked open the latches and prised the lid up along its hinges. What he saw stunned him. Nestled in a protective velvet cushioning, lay possibly the finest broomstick he had ever seen.

"A Lytenbolt?" he managed to croak. Persephone beamed.

"I take it you're pleased," she teased. Harry managed to nod.

"Wow- it's amazing... Wait." He shook his head, and handed the gift back. "I can't accept this."

"Why not?" Persephone asked, her tone of voice suggesting she was a little affronted.

"They're at the prototype stage. It must've cost a fortune, I couldn't..."

Persephone threw her head back and laughed.

"Oh, don't worry about that!" she exclaimed. "I told you a while ago; Viktor has sponsorship from Nimbus Incorporated. I just got him to pull a few strings, you know. So there's no need to feel guilty." She pushed the broom back into his hand, and Harry's guilt lifted.

"It's not every day you come of age, you know," Persephone said, patting Harry gently on the arm. He placed his hand over hers for a brief moment.

"Thanks," he replied, looking at her. She shrugged off his earnest gaze.

"Just remember- you're a dead man if you forget my birthday," she joked, nudging him in his side with her elbow. He offered her a mock salute in return.

Uncle Vernon was eyeing the broomstick as though it might leap up and bite him on the nose.

"What... what on earth is that?" he demanded, looking purple in the face and rather offended by the whole ordeal. Persephone tutted.

"It's a broomstick- I'm sure even you can see that, Vernon," she replied, in an 'everyone knows this' way. Uncle Vernon looked doubly offended by her casual use of his first name.

"We use them to fly on- this model in particular is quite exquisite. I suppose the Muggle equivalent might well be a motorbike, or perhaps a car of some sort," Persephone explained, though her efforts were in vain, as both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia looked grossly affronted by her words.

"Just go and take it upstairs, boy," Aunt Petunia instructed, waving her hands at the broomstick as though she were trying to shoo it away. Harry obeyed her and took the parcel upstairs, hearing Persephone complain, "He has a name, you know- only two syllables, it's not hard to remember," as he entered his bedroom. A slam, followed by a hammering of heavy footsteps suggested to Harry that Dudley had got bored with waiting around in his room.

Harry hastily packed his broomstick and its casing away in one of the compartments in his new trunk, endeavouring to get downstairs before Dudley caused any real trouble with Persephone and found himself pinned to the ceiling with a well-aimed hex. Not that he'd have minded Dudley enduring such shame, Steve reminded him, but Harry shook away any savage thoughts he may have, and concentrated on Persephone causing as little aggravation for herself as possible.

By the time he got downstairs, precious little had happened, except that Aunt Petunia had her arms wrapped protectively around Dudley, and Persephone was staring at her with indignation.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, what do you think I'm going to do? Put him in my cauldron and season him with salt and pepper? Honestly." She shook her head in dismay. "I've met some odd Muggles in my time, but you lot... never mind taking the biscuit, you lot take the whole Family Selection box!"

"Persephone," Harry found himself saying, "don't worry about them- they're always like this."

She shrugged.

"I suppose it's better than them trusting every single witch or wizard they meet, especially with things being as they are now," she replied, calmly. Aunt Petunia visibly bristled at this.

"Th... things as they are now?" she stammered. Persephone leaned her head towards Harry's ear.

"Does she know? About Voldemort and everything?" she asked, surreptitiously. Harry nodded.

"She's got an idea," he replied. Persephone nodded at Aunt Petunia.

"Yes, dark times- are you with me?"

Aunt Petunia nodded, numbly. Persephone gave her a grim smile, and then clapped her hands.

"Let's not talk about all that now," she announced, briskly, walking towards a slightly trembling Aunt Petunia.

"Would you like a hand? I reckon we could all do with a good brew," she suggested. Aunt Petunia seemed even more offended by this remark.

"If you don't mind..."

A loud crash interrupted her words, followed by a sudden rush of cold air, and they all turned to face the direction of the noise.

"Repairo!" a voice commanded, and Harry saw through the open door to the hallway that their front door was being joined back onto its hinges by a figure backing into the living room. The figure turned around, and Harry was almost winded with shock at the sight that greeted him. Alex Ridley was standing in their living room, panting a little from exertion. Her curly black hair was pushed back from her face with a hair-band, almost hiding the deep red streaks from view. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and wiped that hand on the front of her black vest top. Harry could clearly see, emblazoned on both of her upper arms, the tattoo of a roaring sun bound by chains.

"Sorry, guys," she said, glancing at the Dursleys, and at Harry, before glancing up at Persephone's amused expression.

"You know, Al- most people would just knock," she quipped. Alex did not take her piercing gaze off Persephone.

"No time, Perce," she explained. "I've got a job for you," she announced. Aunt Petunia looked ashen.

"Where did you come from?" she asked, fearfully. Alex ignored her completely, whilst Persephone's demeanour quickly became rather business-like.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Severus contacted me," Alex explained. "There's a Death Eater attack planned for," she looked at her watch- "about ten minutes from now. Standard infiltrate and attack from within should cover it." She threw a bundle of black fabric at Persephone, who caught it deftly, and began shaking a white mask free from the folds of material. Harry shuddered as he realised where he had seen them before- they were the masks that Voldemort's Death Eaters wore.

"Put those on," she instructed, and Harry watched as the two women began to fasten great black cloaks over their attire. Persephone picked up the white mask from the floor and looked at it with distaste.

"Where do we need to go?" she asked. Alex shrugged.

"Still waiting to hear from Severus," she replied, tapping what looked like a black leather wallet.

"What's that, Alex?" Harry found himself asking before he could stop himself. Alex eyed him critically for a moment, and then her gaze softened.

"Oh, it's... well, it hasn't got a name yet. Faith came up with it- you can carry it around with you, and other witches or wizards can contact you through it. I suppose it's a portable version of our trusty Cup Communication Devices," she replied. Harry was instantly reminded of Persephone's vile yellow mug that had the words 'Professors do it whilst demonstrating to a class of twenty' printed onto it. No wonder it never left her desk- that had been how she had kept in touch with the Brethren whilst teaching in Hogwarts!

"I think she got the idea from those Muggle pagers," Persephone added. "You know, those little black boxes that you can pin onto your belt, that beep when someone sends you a message?"

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I know the ones," he replied, staring at the wallet. It didn't look particularly special...

"Hang on- Faith invented it?" he asked, suddenly. The first, and last, time he'd met Faith, she was absolutely out of her tree. She had tortured Snape and hurt Draco (which Harry felt he owed her for), kidnapped Ron and Hermione (which Harry felt cancelled out his previous debt), and seemed in no fit state to invent anything.

"She may be mad, Harry, but she no less of a genius because of it," Alex replied.

"It doesn't look like much," Harry commented, then instantly wished he hadn't, figuring it was a rather rude thing to say to someone he knew for a fact carried two wands and a hefty sword at all times.

"Ah- I've transfigured it to resemble a Muggle wallet. When I'm in the wizarding world, it looks like a money pouch," Alex explained, as she tucked it away into her robes. She looked up at Harry and, most likely upon seeing his nervous expression, started to laugh raucously.

"Calm down, lad, anyone would think I was about to disembowel you!" she said, clapping Harry on the back. He smiled weakly, and had just recollected the moment when Alex Ridley threatened to do just that to the previous Minister for Magic, when he was distracted by what sounded like an almighty explosion. He instinctively ducked, then noticed the noise was emanating from Alex's left hip.

"What the Devil was that!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, whilst Dudley sat by, looking rather terrified of the whole situation. Alex rolled her eyes, and felt between the heavy black robes on her person, and fished out that black wallet, which was now shaking violently in her hands. She tapped it with her wand, and the wallet began to unfold... and unfold, and unfold, until it was the size of a Muggle magazine. The features of the wallet began to dissolve away, and were replaced by a black, shiny substance- it could have been satin, except it was too thick and not nearly flexible enough. Harry watched with curiosity as grains of golden coloured sand began to trickle from the top of the black substance to the bottom, and formed words as they fell. He tried to crane his neck to see what was being written, but Alex saved him the trouble.

"Right, Perce, you listening?" Alex asked. Persephone nodded, Death Eater mask in hand. Alex cleared her throat.

"It's from Severus," she announced. "He says that he, Rookwood and Macnair are heading out there to do the deed in five minutes. We should tag onto the back of the group, and knock out Crabbe and Goyle, who are bringing up the rear- I'm supposing you're tall enough to pass for Goyle, and with my cloak adding some bulk, I'm average enough to take Crabbe's place. Besides, the others aren't likely to check- if they do, say you went on a diet, or something. Severus is going to try and lure them away from the Muggles, and we're going to get them out- if we have to dismember a couple of Death Eaters on the way..." She shrugged to show her indifference to the suggestion. Persephone nodded curtly, which Harry assumed meant she understood the instructions.

"Right, where do we have to go?" she asked. Alex's eyes flicked across as she read down the black block.

"Number Sixteen, Primrose Terrace, Ludlow, Shropshire..."

Harry felt as though his heart was slowly filling with molten lead. His hands began to shake a little, but he found a voice he was sure he had lost somewhere between the words 'Primrose' and 'Terrace'.

"Th... That's Hermione's address!" he said quietly, although it sounded far too loud in his head. Persephone grimaced, and clicked her mask into place over her head. The image was not a pleasant one.

"It's all right, Harry- we'll make sure they're okay," she said, through the slit of the mask that covered her mouth. Alex nodded as she put on her own mask.

"Look, I knew her parents- believe me, I won't let what happened to mine happen to hers. Nor will I let what happened to me happen to Hermione," she replied, briskly, as the two of them checked their clothing.

"Passable?" Alex asked. Persephone nodded.

"Passable- let's go," she replied, before turning to face Harry.

"We'll get her out of there," she affirmed, before both she and Alex apparated away with a small pop.

Harry sank to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. He wished he could be out there, helping them, doing something. He hated the idea of being stuck at number four Privet Drive while Hermione was in danger, and felt frustrated, angry, helpless and guilty all at once. Was this simply an attack on Muggles who had born magical children? Or was this because she was his friend? If only he could get his hands on them... He ought to let Ron know, at least... or should he just wait? He didn't want to get Ron all worked up, for as much as Ron denied it, he cared for Hermione almost as though she were another younger sister of his, and Harry had a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach that, should Ron find out what was happening at Hermione's house, he would go there himself, wand in hand, to try and save her from harm... No, best not to contact Ron, at least not until Persephone or Alex were able to shed some light on the whole situation.

"What's the matter? Your girlfriend in trouble?" Dudley teased, maliciously. Harry jumped up and stormed over to him, pointing his wand in the large boy's face.

"Just shut your mouth!" Harry shouted, and he felt the words ring in his own ears. The grin on Dudley's face wiped away in an instant, and he stared at Harry in fear.

"All right, all right," he whispered, folding his arms.

"Who is Hermione?" Aunt Petunia asked, suddenly. Harry was so stunned by the gentleness in her voice that he struggled to answer for a few seconds.

"She's... she's one of my best friends," he replied, "the cleverest witch in our school, and a Muggle-born..." He trailed off, noticing the ugly grimace on Uncle Vernon's face.

"Thank goodness Marge isn't hear at the moment, having to listen to all this rot..."

"It's not rot!" Harry retorted, hotly. Aunt Petunia looked up at him.

"She's Muggle-born?" she asked, quietly. Harry nodded.

"Yeah. A witch born of two Muggles," he replied, sadly. "It's probably why the Death Eaters are..." He daren't finish the words- he didn't want to even think about what might be happening. Aunt Petunia was looking steadfastly at the floor.

"Like your mother was," she half-asked, half-stated. Harry could only nod. Aunt Petunia merely nodded, and said no more, though her expression was altogether softer than Harry had ever seen it before.

Uncle Vernon got up out of his chair and began to pace the room angrily.

"Muggles! Wizards! Death Eaters! This is all nonsense..."

"It's happening, and one of my friends could get killed!" Harry shouted back, the mere though of what could befall Hermione making him feel quite nauseous. Uncle Vernon turned on him.

"This is my 'effing house!" he bellowed, "and I say this rubbish isn't happening!"

Harry stood mere inches from Uncle Vernon's face, and glared at him with loathing.

"Oh, good! Then I suppose Hermione's completely safe, now you've cleared that up!" he yelled back.

Aunt Petunia was still looking at the floor.

"Vernon, please just sit down," she said, quietly. Uncle Vernon's face paled at this. He stared at Aunt Petunia for a few moments, as though he had imagined her words, and then walked towards the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Aunt Petunia called after him.

"I'm going out," he announced, gruffly, as he put his coat on. The door slammed violently.

Dudley looked at the hallway in horror, and then jumped up out of his seat as well.

"Dudley, sweetheart..." Aunt Petunia began, but Dudley glared at her.

"I'm going to see if Dad's okay!" he retorted, before exiting the house in much the same manner, leaving just Harry and Aunt Petunia sitting on the floor of the living-room.

"Aunt Petunia..." Harry began, but was silenced by just one look from said woman, who was twisting the fibres of the shag-pile carpet between her fingers.

"Don't. Just don't," she said, very quietly, her lips having gone so thin, they were almost non-existent. Harry sighed, and stared out of the window overlooking the front garden. He didn't really understand why Aunt Petunia had been so affected by all of this, but he knew the danger he had spoken of had triggered something in his aunt. Right now, though, he knew the only real thought that was currently taking any form that made sense to him right now was that of Hermione- if she was alright, if the Grangers were okay as well, or...

He didn't want to consider the 'or'.  
>** <p>


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: Muggles, Interrupted: As Hermone's life hangs in the balance, the Grangers have to come to terms with more than their daughter's current predicament. Harry is concerned, Ron is frantic and the arrival of a old acquantience only serves to heighten tensions. Aunt Petunia is forced to re-evaluate her decision to take Harry in, but not without another particularly musty skeleton rattling its way out of the Evanses' family closet...  
>Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.<br>Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed; I'm quite excited that you want to find out what happened after 'The Brethren of Tyr'. It'll be exciting- hope you think so too...

Chapter Three: Muggles, Interrupted

Harry looked at the clock once again. It had been at least half an hour since Persephone and Alex had Apparated to Hermione's house, in order to infiltrate and thwart an expected Death Eater attack, and he had heard nothing from them. He looked across the living room, and saw that Aunt Petunia had bustled into the kitchen, and presumably didn't want to be disturbed. Uncle Vernon and Dudley hadn't returned, either. What was happening? He desperately needed to know- he couldn't deal with this for a moment longer, he was sure of it. Was Hermione okay? Were her parents all right? Whatever the outcome, he knew somehow that it would have great impact on the wizarding community. Hermione Granger, Gryffindor prefect, known throughout Hogwarts as the smartest witch in the school, attacked by Death Eaters? The rest of the students would be terrified- what chance did they stand, if she ended up in peril at the hands of Voldemort's minions?

Suddenly, a loud bang occurred directly behind him, and for a brief moment, Harry though Persephone and Alex had returned. He turned around, and was greeted by the sight of a beaming Ron.

"Oh, don't look so pleased to see me, mate," he grumbled, sarcastically, and Harry realised he must have looked disappointed.

"Sorry, Ron, it isn't you- I'm just a little... concerned," Harry said, careful not to mention Hermione's plight until he had further details. Ron frowned at him.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Erm... just the Dursleys, you know," he lied. Ron sighed sympathetically.

"It's pretty grim you have to stay with them," he said.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Harry asked. Ron beamed, as though he had been desperate for Harry to ask that question ever since he had appeared in his living room.

"Well, I just passed my Apparition test, didn't I!" he announced, proudly. Harry forced a smile.

"That's great, Ron, well done!" he said, in a cheery voice most certainly not befitting his mood. Ron's eyes widened.

"I should have done it in the Easter holidays, but the Apparition Regulator got my date of birth confused with Charlie's, so they slotted me in before the summer holiday students to make up for it. It was well scary- I thought I'd blown it when the examiner asked me to Apparate to the bottom of the street- and I Apparated to the top instead. I got confused with the house numbers," he admitted. "But fortunately, they can't mark you down for taking a wrong direction, only if you damage yourself or anyone else by taking it, so I passed!"

He breathed in deeply, and then frowned at Harry.

"What's wrong, mate?" he asked, in a concerned tone of voice. Harry grimaced- he really didn't want to tell Ron, but deep down, he knew he had to. He took a deep breath.

"It's Hermione," he replied. Ron rolled his eyes.

"What's she done now? She hasn't started lecturing you about adult responsibility already, has she?" he asked, with a small laugh. The laugh disappeared into nothing, however, upon looking at Harry.

"What's happened?" he asked. Harry stole himself for the moment.

"Her house- it's being attacked by Death Eaters. Persephone and Alex got a message from Snape..."

Ron clearly wasn't listening. He had gone an odd shade of white, and his shoulders had slumped, making him look about two inches shorter than he was.

"Hermione?" he said, feebly, before shaking himself and grabbing his wand. Harry quickly put his hand around Ron's wand wrist.

"Ron, don't," he said, warningly. Ron tried to shake himself free of his grip.

"I've got to do something!" he yelled back.

"Ron, no! You can't do anything- Persephone and Alex are infiltrating the attack, they'll rescue her," Harry reasoned. Ron glared at him.

"And you're happy to leave them to it?" he shouted back.

"Do you think I'd still be here if I could help?" he retorted, and Ron seemed to calm down at this remark.

"You're right," he sighed, pacing the floor nervously. "They will let us know, won't they?"

"Yeah, both Persephone and Alex said they would," Harry replied, as calmly as he could. "They're taking their sweet time over it," he thought, anxiously.

A click of the front door alerted Harry, but the hallway revealed a red-faced Dudley and Uncle Vernon, who were swaying a little in the doorway. They entered the house, and staggered into the front room. Aunt Petunia came rushing in, wringing her hands.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Uncle Vernon nodded.

"We're bosh fine," he slurred. Dudley emitted a high-pitched giggle, and nodded in an exaggerated fashion.

"Thash't right, mum- there'sh notshing to worry aboush," he added. Aunt Petunia frowned at them.

"You've been drinking?" she asked, though her glare was cold enough to freeze the Dead Sea. Uncle Vernon shrugged.

"We may havesh had a couplshe," he admitted. Aunt Petunia threw a nearby cushion at him.

"Dudley's only seventeen!" she shrieked. Uncle Vernon returned her glare, though his eyes kept crossing at inopportune moments.

"The boy'sh gosht to learn shometime," he replied, unabashed. "Better now, witsh hish Dadsh, than looksh a panshy in front of hish friendsh..."

He stumbled into the potted palm plant next to the doorframe, before leaning against the doorjamb in what he presumably thought looked like a casual manner. Dudley staggered into the living room, tripped over the armrest of the sofa, and fell face first into the cushions. He began snoring rather loudly only seconds later.

"Vernon, you've got some serious explaining to do!" Aunt Petunia said, crossly, but Uncle Vernon waved away her concerns with a swish of his fat hand in the air.

"Relax, Petunia. What else am I supposed to do? At leasht when I'm drunk, those freaksh are shlightly more bearable..."

Harry saw Ron grown red in the face.

"We're not freaks!" he retorted, angrily, staring at Uncle Vernon, who tried to stare back, but clearly was having difficulty focussing.

"Yesh... freaksh," he slurred back, before slumping along the doorjamb until he was in a semi-sitting position upon the carpet. He pressed one of his palms to his temple and sighed loudly.

A figure Apparated into the living room with a loud popping sound, and dusted himself off. Harry was horrified when he saw who it was, and a swift glance in Ron's direction confirmed his redheaded friend felt the same. Their hated Potions professor, Snape, was standing in front of them, wearing a black robe similar to Persephone's.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, and then hastily added, "Sir." Snape glared at him contemptuously.

"Why do you think, boy?" he said, rhetorically. Harry glared at him as he surveyed his surroundings casually, seemingly unimpressed by the Durselys living room.

Another small pop followed, and Harry saw to his relief that Persephone was now standing in the living room. This relief subsided, when he realised that she was alone.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked, quickly. Persephone sighed.

"She's coming. Alex is bringing her, along with her parents, and..." She trailed off as she saw Snape standing opposite her. She frowned.

"Did you just get here?" she asked. Snape turned to face her.

"Yes," he replied.

"What, you Apparated straight here?" she asked. Snape frowned at her.

"Of course, why?" he asked, suspiciously, as Aunt Petunia finally looked at him, and gasped.

"Severus?" she whispered. Harry was floored by this- she knew Snape by his first name? Oddly enough, Snape seemed somewhat bewildered by Aunt Petunia's recognition of him, as well.

Just when Harry thought today couldn't get any stranger, Persephone glared at Snape, pulled what looked like a knife out from beneath her heavy Death Eater robes, and threw it with precision aim into his left shoulder blade. He let out a piercing yell, then turned to face her, his face twisted into a furious, malicious expression.

"Beauchamp!" he raged. Persephone folded her arms and looked at him.

"I thought as much. Well, well- this is indeed a puzzler. Now then, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Who are you?" she asked, forcefully. Snape stared at her with hatred in his eyes, and lunged at her, his arms outstretched. Persephone thrust her right hand between them.

"Dextera; Immobilus!" she commanded, and Snape was frozen to the spot, his arms outstretched like some kind of mummy. Persephone smiled one of her lop-sided smiles.

"Fine; the hard way it is," she said, mostly to herself, as she reached out with her left hand and announced, "Sinistra; Acclaro!"

Suddenly, Snape was no longer Snape. The greasy black hair was replaced by shorter, blonde hair; the tall, lanky frame shrank in height and gained in weight. Harry vaguely recognised the man that stood in front of him now, but it was clear from Persephone's horrified expression that she recognised him much more clearly.

"Ioan?" she practically whispered, lowering her hands. The man smiled.

"I'm flattered you remember me, Persephone," he replied, smoothly. Persephone shrugged.

"When you're in bed with a guy, and he turns into a wolf, it kind of leaves an impression," she replied, nonchalantly. Harry suddenly recalled where he recognised the man from- it was Ioan Desislav, Persephone's childhood sweetheart and the Durmstrang Quidditch captain at the time. Harry had seen him on one of Persephone's school photographs. Ron, on the other hand, looked thoroughly confused, and was frowning at the two of them, as though he thought an answer might appear as a result of his actions. Harry placed a hand on Ron's arm in order to restrain him from any sudden movement. He had a nasty feeling this man had been involved with the raid on Hermione's house.

"I have to know," Ioan asked, "however did you guess?"

"He wouldn't be so stupid as to directly Apparate away from a Death Eater attack without changing his clothes," Persephone replied, as she unsheathed a sword from somewhere underneath those black robes, and pointed it warningly in front of her. Ioan laughed.

"Oh, Persephone, do we really need to do this with weapons?" he asked, mockingly. Persephone smiled.

"Not really, but I do happen to like them," she retorted, calmly. Ioan raised an eyebrow.

"You always were one for artillery," he replied. "It was what I admired most about you..."

Persephone rolled her eyes.

"Now, Ioan, I like to reminisce as much as the next wizard, but can we just get to the fighting, please? I'm not one for raking over past ground, I thought you knew that," she retorted. Ioan smiled.

"I knew you better than you ever did," he replied. "Always have. You always did play the tough girl, but I've always known where the fa?ade ended, and you began."

Persephone faked a stifled yawn, and glanced at her watch.

"Get to the point, Desislav," she spat. Ioan appeared pleased at her anger.

"You'd do well with us, you know," he explained, patiently. "These Muggles really are a dent on our society. We need to purge it- reclaim our world, and rebuild it, as it should be. You were always one for social utopia; why not side with people who share that dream?"

"I already have," she replied, glaring at Ioan. He shrugged.

"Shame. I thought you might want to follow in your old man's footsteps..." He paused dramatically, and then clicked his fingers. "But of course; you already have!"

Harry saw Persephone turn even paler than she usually was.

"What do you mean?" she asked, defensively. Ioan smiled triumphantly, and folded his arms.

"I mean, your father is playing two sides of the same coin, so to speak," he replied. Persephone looked as though she was about to say something, when he put his finger to his lips.

"Now, now, no need to mouth off," he said, "nobody else knows. Or rather, nobody else need know."

Persephone's eyes narrowed, and Ioan took this as his cue to continue.

"Join us, and I promise I'll keep my secret."

"Why?"

"You'd be useful to us. Very useful indeed. Much as many of us deride the Brethren, I can see they've taught you well, plus you could no doubt keep Severus in check- I noticed today, he does have this nasty habit of running off with schoolgirls. I won't even begin to comment on the moral implications..."

"You were never particularly amusing, Ioan," Persephone interrupted. Ioan shrugged.

"You were never particularly pretty- I suppose we made up for each other's faults," he replied, swiftly. Persephone folded her arms, and Harry could see the sword she held poke out behind her. Ioan looked impatient.

"Well, what's your answer?" he asked, walking towards her. Persephone gave him a humourless smile, and his hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat.

"It's a simple choice!" he goaded, as Persephone dropped her sword and tried to prise his hand away from her neck. He squeezed tighter, and she began to choke.

Then, all of a sudden, before Harry could even think of getting up to help her, Ioan let go, as though he had just received an electric shock. He looked at Persephone suspiciously.

"Now, I'd just love to know what that was all about," he taunted, shaking his hand in the air as though trying to shake life back into it.

On noticing this distraction, Persephone deftly moved her arms from behind her back.

"Dextera, Sinistra; Stupefy!" she bellowed, and a huge blast of red light hit Ioan Desislav square in the chest with a bang, who keeled over and slumped to the floor. Persephone deftly conjured a large amount of chains and bound him to the spot.

"I'll, erm... I'll get him moved," she promised, as she scratched the back of her neck with a trembling hand. Harry thought she appeared white as a sheet.

"What just happened, with him dropping you?" Ron asked, suddenly. Persephone shrugged.

"He wasn't the only one who would have liked to know," she replied. Harry continued to stare at Persephone's slightly shaky frame.

"Perhaps it's the blood protection. I'm protected here because Aunt Petunia took me in, and by doing so sealed a pact with Mum. Maybe your blood is like mine," he replied, quietly, unable to tear his eyes away from Persephone. She frowned, as though she was trying to process this new piece of information, and Harry wondered if perhaps casting one spell using both hands was not something one should attempt with wandless magic.

"Are you okay, Persephone?" Harry asked, quietly. Persephone nodded.

"I'll live," she replied. "It's just using both sides of the body to channel wandless magic isn't the cleverest of moves. It's wicked powerful, but it comes at a price. That price happens to be a sudden onset of the shakes. It's no biggie."

Suddenly, a couple of small popping noises distracted Harry from Persephone's apparent physical distress, and both he and Ron stood up. Alex Ridley was standing in the living room, holding onto the arms of both Tom and Kate Granger, who looked pale and frightened.

"Where's Hermione, what's happened to Hermione!" Kate kept pleading, looking around her, clearly stunned as to the sudden change in location.

"It's okay, Kate, she's fine," Alex soothed, sitting them both down on a nearby sofa. Uncle Vernon rubbed his eyes, and stared wildly at them.

"Whatsh the hellsh do you thinksh your doingsh?" he demanded, albeit in a slurring voice. Alex glared at him.

"Oh, shut up, you old soak!" she shouted, before turning her attention back to the Grangers. Uncle Vernon remained slack-jawed, staring at Alex as though she was a particularly loathsome beggar. Eventually, on garnering no response from the woman, he stumbled out of the room, and upstairs, judging by the loud thumping sounds Harry could hear on the ceiling.

At that point, another small pop rang in Harry's ears, and this time, he really was staring at his hated Potions teacher, except he had something very precious to both Ron and Harry held in his arms.

"Move out of the way!" he barked at Ron and Harry, who, rather than feeling angry and indignant at his brusque behaviour, obeyed instantly. He carefully lay Hermione down on a sofa, and Harry noticed she had a black cloak wrapped around her upper body. He watched helplessly as Snape began to place his hands on her neck and chest.

"Alexandra, get me a cauldron," he demanded. Alex clicked her fingers at Persephone, who rushed into the kitchen. She then looked at him.

"How is she?" she asked.

"She's getting colder, and I think she might enter cardiac obstruct," he replied, whilst gingerly loosening the cloak wrapped around her body, all the while keeping one hand pressed to her chest wall.

"Arrest," Alex corrected, as she conjured what appeared to be a bag of medical supplies into her left hand.

"Argh! Bloody saucepans!" Persephone was shouting from the kitchen. "Petunia! Have you got any pewter bowls?"

Aunt Petunia jumped in her seat.

"Erm... I've got a silver tray," she stammered.

"Is it real, solid silver?" Persephone shouted back.

"Yes, it was a wedding present," Aunt Petunia replied, as though she was offended by the suggestion she owned anything silver-plated.

"Right- found it!" Persephone shouted back, which was swiftly followed by what sounded like somebody smashing a silver tray with a hammer. A few seconds later, Persephone emerged with a crudely fashioned bowl. Aunt Petunia paled at the sight. Alex got up, sighed, and pointed her wand at it, transfiguring it into a perfect cauldron shape. Persephone looked embarrassed.

"Or, you could do that," she replied, diffidently.

"That'll do- I need a fire," Snape barked.

"There's an agar cooker in the kitchen..."

"Too big," Snape replied, "I need something to steady the cauldron- I only want to heat the centre..."

"We've gotsh a Calor Gash fire in the shed- I tooksh it on a camping trip," Dudley piped up, and Harry nearly fainted from the shock. Dudley, offering to help? It all seemed too weird. Snape seemed unconcerned by such things.

"Well, go and get it, boy!" Snape snapped.

"Yesh, sir," Dudley stammered, then quickly made his way to the shed, though he did swerve into the doorframe once or twice.

Meanwhile, Alex pulled out what looked like a lethal syringe, followed by something long and thin in a paper and plastic covering.

"We need to act fast- that potion won't work quickly enough if we administer it orally," she said, clinically. Snape nodded, as Dudley returned with the gas fire and some matches. He switched on the gas supply, and began to try and light a match using his shaking hands, but Snape stopped him. Without so much as a word, he pointed his wand at the escaping gas, murmured, "Incendio," and a bluish flame rose up from the gas canister. Persephone plonked the makeshift cauldron on the flames, and Snape began to add various substances from a variety of bottles and vials both he and Alex had on their person. Harry watched as they worked in tandem, giving orders and instructions, passing each other ingredients and checking effects.

"What can we do?" Ron asked Persephone, as Harry saw the potion turn from blue to green.

"Yeah, there must be something," he added. Persephone shrugged.

"Erm... you could help me move Ioan, I suppose," she offered. "I need to get him to headquarters."

"Is Hermione going to be okay?" Harry asked, as he glanced across at the pale girl sprawled across the sofa.

"I think she'll be fine," Persephone replied, quietly. Ron, however, has pounced upon one word.

"Think? You think she'll be fine!" he exclaimed. Persephone shushed him, and grabbed his shoulders roughly.

"We're doing everything we can- please stay calm, if only for Kate and Tom's sake," she replied, in a low but gruff whisper. Ron seemed to compose himself after that, and looked across at the Grangers sitting nervously at the other end of the living room. Harry looked as well, and saw they were clutching each other's hands and wore expressions of grave concern. He caught Kate's eye, and she smiled weakly at him. He returned the smile in a gesture of shared concern for Hermione.

"Right, that's it!" Alex called out, and ripped off the papery covering of the long, thin object, which revealed it to be a large needle. She attached it to the syringe, and drew up a measure of the potion bubbling away in the transfigured cauldron, tapping the needle with her knuckle until no air bubbles were present.

"Okay- Severus, get her shirt off," she commanded. Ron appeared horrified at these words, and stormed over to where Hermione lay.

"What? What are you thinking?" he yelled, hotly.

"Be quiet, Weasley, do you want her to die?" Snape shouted back, rhetorically, and Ron fell into a shocked silence at his words. Harry watched as Snape swiftly cut Hermione's shirt and bra open with a small pocket-knife; Alex hovering over her body as though anticipating an attack.

"Right; hold her still," Alex ordered, and Snape pinned Hermione down by the shoulders. Alex lifted the syringe up, and thrust it hard into Hermione's sternum. Harry felt himself wince as he heard a sickening crack, then felt fingers dig deep into his upper arm. They were Ron's.

"What are they doing to her?" he asked, in a hollow voice.

"I don't know," Harry replied, quietly.

"They're trying to bring her heartbeat back to a normal rate, at least enough to get her to hospital," Tom replied, quietly.

"If it works, she'll be fine. She won't need to go to hospital," Alex replied, as she pushed the syringe pump and expelled the liquid into Hermione's chest.

Suddenly, Harry's ears were assaulted by an ear-splitting scream, followed by Alex's voice shouting, "Don't move, damn it! Keep her still!" over the din. He looked across at the sofa, and saw Hermione's eyes were wide open. She was shaking, pale and sweating, and struggling to escape Snape's firm grip.

"It'll be over in a minute, now keep still," he said, as Alex pulled the syringe out of Hermione's chest and quickly pulled out her wand and muttered some incantation. Harry heard that horrific crunching noise again, and then there was silence, save for Hermione's ragged breathing. She pulled herself up into a sitting position, and Harry saw Snape place that large black cloak over her shoulders, then deftly grab the cauldron in his right hand and hold it in front of Hermione. Harry was about to wonder why, when he saw Hermione retch into it, her entire body shaking with the effort.

The Grangers had moved as one to Hermione's side, Tom having taken the bowl holding job from an obviously relieved Snape, whilst Kate was gushing at him and Alex.

"Oh, thank you, both of you," she wept, clearly unable to hold herself together one more moment. Snape looked thoroughly uncomfortable with the attention, but Alex put an arm around her.

"She's okay now- that's good enough for me," she replied, resting her head against Kate's. Tom, his arm still wrapped tightly around Hermione's shoulders, looked across at Snape.

"Thank you- but why exactly were you at our house, anyway?" he asked, with a definite air of suspicion. Snape frowned.

"It's complicated..."

"He's a Death Eater spy," Persephone piped up. Snape sighed irritably.

"Apparently not that complicated," he replied. Tom stared at him as though he were appraising him.

"That must take guts," he remarked, though Harry could tell now that Tom was staring at his teeth with interest. Snape made no reply.

"Here, I could probably sort out those for you," Tom said, pointing subtly at Snape's teeth. "Do you smoke at all?"

"No, it's a filthy habit," Snape replied, swiftly, leaving Tom rather nonplussed. He got up from where he had been kneeling to help aid Hermione, and brushed himself down, at which point Harry noticed he and Aunt Petunia made eye contact.

"Severus," Aunt Petunia acknowledged.

"Petunia," he replied, curtly.

Harry looked across at Persephone, and quickly realised he wasn't the only one to have noticed this odd exchange, for she was staring at them both with wide-eyes and raised eyebrows.

"Here, Severus," she announced, suddenly, "Ioan Desislav paid us a visit earlier. He seemed to think you were playing for both teams, as it were."

Snape looked at her.

"Where is he now?" he asked, and Harry thought he could detect a hint of panic on the professor's face. Persephone pointed towards the fireplace at the bundle of chained-up Death Eater.

"There," she announced, casually. Snape's lip curled in distaste.

"Are you planning to move him at any time?" he asked. Persephone shrugged.

"Yeah- I'd best get on it, actually. Sam will probably want a word with him down in Interrogation," she replied, directing her right hand at the offending area and disapparating away with a small popping noise.

Harry looked across at Hermione, who was currently being smothered by her parents, and smiled at her. She smiled back, and beckoned him to come over. He did so, and she put a friendly arm around him, pulling him into a hug, which he returned.

"Are you feeling okay?" Harry asked, once he'd let go. Hermione smiled.

"Yeah, I'm feeling alright," she replied.

"What happened?" he asked. Hermione grimaced.

"Our house got attacked by Death Eaters- some kind of raid, I think. We got a bit of a head start, because one of our neighbours saw some odd people in masks and mentioned it to Dad when he was walking to work. So, he ran back, and we tried to barricade the door in, but it didn't work... I got hit around three times with Stunners, I think. I'm not too sure... I just remember feeling incredibly cold... then waking up here. What did I miss?" she asked, with a dark smile.

"Not a lot- Snape brought you in here, he and Alex did something with a potion and a syringe..."

Hermione clutched the cloak around her body.

"Oh yes, that. It sounds like some procedure they use to restart your heart... Oh my God- did I die?" she asked, suddenly. Alex laughed.

"No, you didn't. You were close, but you survived," she replied, whilst comforting a still shocked Kate.

Harry found himself looking at Hermione's hand where she had drawn her cloak around herself, and blushed.

"Shall I get you a spare jumper?" he asked. Hermione looked down at herself, and blushed too.

"Yes, thanks. That would be nice," she said. Harry got up to leave the living room, when Hermione grabbed his hand.

"Where's Ron?" she asked. Harry jerked his head in the direction of the redheaded boy who was fastidiously examining the wallpaper.

"I think he doesn't want to intrude," he replied, as a small popping sound indicated that Persephone had returned from her quick visit to the Interrogation Department of the Brethren to drop off her parcel. Hermione shouted to get Ron's attention, as Harry made his way upstairs and into his bedroom. He had picked out a warm looking jumper from his trunk, and stuffed it under his arm, when he heard a distant pop, then a knock at the door.

"I'll get it, nobody rush," he heard Persephone announce, sarcastically. The front door clicked open, a brief discussion that Harry couldn't really hear occurred, then he became aware of Persephone speaking in an entirely different language- something he had never heard her do before. Harry recognised the male voice that answered her, though, especially when he heard the word, "Hermy-own-ninny," pepper the conversation.

By the time Harry had descended the stairs leading to the Dursleys' hallway, Persephone had finished her interrogation, and clearly ascertained that Viktor Krum was indeed in front of her. They were now hugging each other with enthusiasm, and chatting away in what he assumed was Bulgarian, as she led him into the living room. He just about had time to pass Hermione his jumper, which she thanked him for and pulled over her head, before Viktor Krum took centre-stage.

"Hermy-own-ninny!" Viktor exclaimed, rushing towards her. She smiled, and embraced him.

"Viktor? What are you doing her?" she asked, beaming. Viktor smiled shyly, and knelt before her.

"There haff been Aurors all over the place... I vanted to surprise you, come and visit vhile I vas in England... you vere not there, so I came to find you, and so I haff," he explained, nervously. Hermione smiled, and let him hold her hand in his.

"Are you alright? You vere not hurt?" Viktor asked. Hermione nodded.

"I'm okay now," she replied, looking across at Alex, who feigned modesty. It was at this point Harry noticed that Snape was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Petunia.

Then Harry's attention was drawn to Ron. He was standing in the corner of the room, glaring at Krum with an intensity Harry thought he had never seen Ron possess. Eventually, Harry caught his eye.

"What's up?" he asked, on walking over to him. Ron shrugged.

"Nothing," he mumbled. Harry smiled gently.

"It doesn't look like nothing," he said, as gently as he could. Ron just glared at him.

"Just... It doesn't matter, okay! I'm going outside," he announced, before turning away and apparating off with a loud bang that made everyone in the room jump.

"Wh... Where did he go?" Dudley stammered, and Harry noticed he had paled with fright.

Harry looked out of the window that overlooked the back garden, and spotted a surly looking redhead padding around near the tree at the foot of the garden, kicking at random flowers that happened to be in his path.

"He's outside," Harry replied, and decided it might be an idea to join him, so opened the door to the kitchen, where the back door was located... then promptly shut it again when he glimpsed what was on the other side. In the kitchen, Harry had clearly seen Snape and Aunt Petunia sat on opposite sides of the kitchen table, nursing cups of coffee. Snape looked his usual contemptuous self, and Aunt Petunia looked rather cowed.

He contemplated listening to what they might have been talking about, except that Persephone beat him to it, and slid an Extendable Ear underneath the crack of the door, putting one end to her left ear.

"I must tell Fred and George how useful these have been," she whispered to Harry, only to wince in pain and drop her end of the Extendable Ear to the floor.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked. Persephone put a finger in her left ear and waggled it, a look of discomfort on her face.

"He's got the measure of me, hasn't he?" she complained, although she smiled as she did so. "He put a Volume charm on his voice, and shouted right down the other end!"

Harry winced in sympathy.

"Humph- I'll get him back, though," Persephone added, as though the very act itself would involve similar amounts of planning as any of the Brethren's war efforts.

Harry looked at Persephone, wondering how much she really wanted to hear what was going on behind that kitchen door, and then slowly opened it to just a crack, which was enough to make both Aunt Petunia and Snape's voices audible to him. Persephone saw him.

"You know," she whispered, "I think I'm supposed to set you a good example and discourage such behaviour..."

Judging by the lightning speed at which she crawled to the door and leant her head near the open gap, she had resolved that particularly brief moral conflict. He instead began to concentrate on the conversation going on in that room.

"...He just can't expect me to keep him... After everything that's happened today? I thought those Dementors were bad enough... I just can't take the risk anymore. I'm sure you must understand," Aunt Petunia was saying.

"Enlighten me," Snape replied, icily.

"Well, you've got your daughter back, after all this time. It must be hard to adjust, especially with all these dangers... wouldn't you just rather keep her away from it all?"

Harry heard someone sigh deeply, and imagined it to be Snape.

"She's an adult. I can't make that choice for her... I can't protect her. You, on the other hand..."

"Does that worry you?" Aunt Petunia asked, gently, in her best counselling voice, that Harry just thought sounded condescending.

"Since when did you suddenly become so interested in my well being?" Snape retorted, viciously. Clearly he didn't appreciate the slightly patronising tone in Aunt Petunia's voice.

"I was just asking..."

"Well, save your breath, Petunia. Persephone isn't the issue- you and the Potter boy are."

There was a sharp intake of breath and an uncomfortable silence, which was soon broken by Aunt Petunia.

"How dare you!" she stammered with rage. "I've never liked you and your lot, ever! Yet here you are, causing trouble, putting my family in danger!"

"And finally, after a supremely boring fifteen minutes skirting around the issue, we finally get to the nub of the matter. What about Lily? I trust she was your family too, yet you lump her in as one of my lot, as it were..."

Somebody snorted; Harry guessed it was Aunt Petunia.

"There's a difference between not liking someone, and not caring if they're slaughtered in their own home. I'd have thought you of all people would understand that!"

"Very perceptive of you, Petunia. It's a pity then, that you seem to have difficulty telling the difference between not liking someone, and lusting after them. Not to mention acting on that..."

"Oh shut up, Severus!" she hissed. "That was a long time ago."

There was another tense silence.

"And yet you remember it like it was yesterday. I'm touched," Snape drawled. Harry heard a cup slam on the kitchen table.

"For God's sake, Severus, don't do that! It's... it's..."

"A violation of your mind?"

"Yes! Heaven only knows why you were born with that... that abnormality!"

"Actually, I learned it, along with a host of other skills I don't recall you complaining about twenty years ago," Snape replied, silkily.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? You actually like making me angry!"

"I'll admit you're more fun this way," he retorted.

"I bet you told anyone you could about... about our," Petunia coughed. "Indiscretion."

Snape laughed derisively.

"Hardly. A Muggle, of all people? I do have a reputation to uphold. As do you," he replied.

"Get to the point, Severus," Aunt Petunia snapped.

"I'm just saying, it would be a pity if I slipped up, and accidentally mentioned something about that evening. Especially if it were in front of your husband..."

There was another excruciating silence.

"You... you wouldn't," Aunt Petunia croaked.

"That all depends on you, really," Snape replied, smoothly.

"You're resorting to blackmail?"

"I prefer the term 'insurance'."

"All for this one boy... Why, Severus? Why go to all this trouble? I know you don't like him one little bit!"

"Like you said; there's a difference between not liking someone, and not caring if they're slaughtered in their own home."

Harry heard the scraping of chair legs against the lino of the kitchen floor.

"I'll be seeing you, Petunia," Snape drawled. Harry and Persephone barely made it away from the door quick enough before he emerged, looking perfectly calm. Through the gap of the open door, Harry could see Aunt Petunia was shaking with rage.

Snape stopped in his tracks and eyeballed Persephone suspiciously. She glared back indignantly.

"What?" she whinged, managing to make the word sound duo-syllabic.

"Were you enjoying yourself crouching behind that door?" he spat, and continued to glare at her. Persephone retained her expression of umbrage.

"Oh, come on- what do you take me for?" she retorted. Snape merely raised an eyebrow.

"I take you for Persephone Beauchamp, which I why I feel my suspicions are no doubt completely grounded," he replied, sarcastically. Persephone shrugged.

"Well, you can't blame me for being curious. It isn't like you've told me a great deal about this side of my family..."

"I've told you all I know," Snape interrupted, at which Persephone rolled her eyes.

"Evidently, you haven't," she retorted. Snape ignored her, and sat down on a chair, looking at his watch with the air of someone who desperately wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now. Harry couldn't help but smile at his discomfort. Unlike Persephone, however, his smile was a malicious one.

"You can stop your smirking, Potter," Snape said, coldly. Dudley began to laugh, until he was silenced by one of the most murderous glares Harry had ever seen Snape subject anyone to, at which point he shut up completely, and sloped off to the kitchen.

Alex, on the other hand, stood up and manoeuvred herself so she was right next to him.

"How do you do that, Severus?" she asked, with a look of genuine awe. Snape gave her a slightly less cold glare.

"It comes naturally after fourteen years of teaching," he replied, tersely. Alex seemed to mull this over, before Persephone sat on the arm of the chair that Snape was seated in. Harry noticed that Viktor was staring at the two of them, flicking from one to the other repeatedly, and appearing both suspicious and confused. Hermione nudged him, and began a very low conversation, which Harry presumed explained how Snape and Persephone were related.

"Oh, come on, Severus," Persephone whispered, "tell me about Petunia. What's going on?"

Harry knew he wasn't meant to be listening in, though he was also fairly certain Persephone would tell him whatever it was they were discussing, so he pretended to be engrossed in the free local newspaper that had been delivered to the Durselys a few days ago.

"You mean, what went on," Snape replied, quietly. Persephone shrugged.

"You know better than me," she replied, her eyes boring into his. For a moment, Snape looked a little embarrassed.

"It's really not important..."

"Then there's no reason not to tell me," Persephone replied. Unable to get around her unwavering logic, Snape sighed with irritation.

"Fine. A good few years ago, you were probably only two at the time, Lily was babysitting you for Porphyria. Petunia was hanging around, letting slip veiled comments about her dislike of wizards and such, and your mother joked that... well, if she had a more intimate knowledge of wizards, she might change her mind. I joked back that I'd be curious to find out, at which she laughed and said I'd never manage it... At that age, I didn't much like to back down from a challenge, so we had a little wager..." He trailed off.

Persephone stared at him with a mixture of distaste and indignation.

"Who died and made you the Vicomte de Valmont [1]?" she complained. Snape looked at her.

"I refuse to answer that on the grounds of taste," he replied, simply, and Persephone fell silent for a moment. She soon recovered her voice, though.

"Gordon Bennet [2]- my mum, her sister... I bet you were obsessive about collecting those Chocolate Frog cards as a kid," she commented, shaking her head. Snape looked bewildered.

"Meaning?"

"I think Percy's suggesting, you like to have the set, as it were," Alex explained, with a cheeky grin that showed a replacement gold canine tooth. Snape glared at her, but said nothing in return.

"What did you get?" Persephone asked. Snape's eyebrows rose a little.

"Explain," he replied. Persephone rolled her eyes.

"What did you win in the bet? I mean, besides- ahem- job satisfaction," she replied, cheekily. Snape shrugged.

"I can't really remember... I think it was a box of chocolate frogs and a chess set."

Persephone looked askance at him.

"You cheap whore!" she hissed. Snape did nothing except glare coolly at her.

Alex, Harry noticed, was doing her level best to keep a straight face. The Grangers were, likewise, steadfastly pretending they hadn't heard a word of the conversation. Only Hermione and Viktor remained oblivious to the discussion that had gone on, quietly in a world of their own.

Suddenly, Viktor exclaimed, "I didn't think you could get people pregnant at fourteen!" and Harry saw Snape bunch his fists up so tightly, that his knuckles were turning white. He decided that now would be as good a time as any to go and see how Ron was doing, so he got up and opened the kitchen door.

Once he had entered the back garden, Harry spotted Ron straight away, seeing as the only other person in there at the moment was Dudley, and he was surrounded by a cloud of grey smoke, guiltily puffing away at a cigarette as far away from the windows of the house as he could physically manage.

"Are you alright, Ron?" Harry asked, at which Ron jumped in surprise.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah... I'm fine... Is Hermione still taking to Krum?" he asked, quickly. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, he hasn't moved from her side since he got here."

Ron pulled a face.

"Yeah, I bet!" he said, with a snort.

"Ron, he was just worried about Hermione," Harry tried to reason, but Ron gave him a frosty glare that warned him to drop the subject, so he did. After a few moments of silence, Ron resumed his pacing around the tree.

"Humph- just because he's a bloody world team Quidditch player, doesn't give him the right to sniff around her like that," Ron groused. Harry had to admit he was confused by this remark.

"Ron, what on earth do you mean?" he asked. Ron flushed scarlet.

"Nothing. Forget it. Anyway, what was your Aunt doing chatting to Snape?" he asked, changing the subject with an abruptness that knocked Harry for six.

"I'm not entirely sure. I think he was blackmailing her," he replied. Ron frowned.

"What could old Snape possibly have on her to use as blackmail?"

"Him, by all accounts," a voice butted in, and Harry instantly recognised it as Alex's.

"Sorry, chaps- couldn't help but overhear," she apologised. "I thought I'd get some fresh air, seeing as I had a choice of hearing Severus' grousing, or Viktor's capitulation at the hands of the dreaded parents," she explained. Ron tried, and failed, to hide a snigger. Alex paid little attention, for she was staring over at Dudley with an odd look on her face. Eventually, she turned to Harry before he could get a word in edgeways.

"Here, do your Aunt and Uncle know their kid smokes?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"Don't think so, Alex," he replied. She smiled, and tapped her fingers together.

"Excellent," she remarked, before striding over to where Dudley was crouched behind the bushes, trying to hide the fact that he was smoking, and doing a very poor job of it.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.

"No idea," he replied, as he watched Alex approach Dudley. He looked at Ron, and the two of them mutely decided to get close enough to find out what was going on.

It turned out not to be that interesting, after all. Alex had merely engaged Dudley in conversation.

"Here, kiddo, can I crash a fag off you?"

"I'm down to my last three!" Dudley moaned, from near the bush. Alex offered him a false grin.

"I'm sure you could spare just the one, in return for my silence," she replied. Dudley looked confused, so Alex rolled her eyes and stared at him as though he were five years old.

"Look, it's pretty simple- give me one of your fags, and I won't grass you up to your folks, deal?"

Dudley looked most infuriated.

"Fine, you've got a deal," he whinged, stuffing one of his cigarettes into Alex's hand.

"Cheers," she said, with a wink, and put the orange end of her cigarette to her lips. Looking furtively around, she pulled out her wand and muttered, "Incendio." A blue flame jumped out of the end of her wand and onto the cigarette, until the ash glowed red, and smoke started to drift out of it. Alex inhaled deeply, and blew the smoke from her mouth away from Harry and Ron, the latter of whom was staring at her in confusion.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Alex shrugged.

"I know, I know- it's a filthy habit," she confessed. Ron still looked confused.

"I don't get it," he replied. "It looks like a pipe, but it's a tube of paper."

"That's about the shape of it," Alex replied. Ron grinned at her.

"What does it do, then?" he asked. Alex looked nonplussed.

"Do?" she asked. Ron nodded.

"Yeah- does the burning paper help? Does it increase your wit, or make you feel happy?"

"It doesn't really do anything. Besides, the entire act of smoking merely increases your risk of getting cancer," Alex replied, slightly sheepishly. Ron frowned at her.

"Then why do it?" he asked. Alex sighed.

"Because I've been doing it since I was fifteen, and just haven't been able to give up," she replied, before making eye contact with Dudley.

"Let that be a little life lesson for you, free of charge," she said, at which Dudley pulled a face, but said nothing in return. Alex sighed.

"The situation's just getting pretty tense in there. I mean, post- meeting the parents," she replied, taking another drag on her cigarette.

"Why? Is it because of Aunt Petunia and Snape?" Harry asked. Alex grimaced.

"Nah- I wish it was; that'd be so much easier. This is to do with Hermione, Kate and Tom," she replied, sadly. Ron looked at her.

"What's the matter?" he asked. Alex tapped on the top of her cigarette, and Harry saw ash fall from it onto the grass beneath their feet.

"Our suggested methods of protection are going down like a lead zeppelin, to be honest, as are Hermione's desires to return to Hogwarts in September," she explained. Ron looked horrified.

"Not go to Hogwarts? That's ludicrous!" he exclaimed. Alex shrugged.

"I know. I pointed out that Hermione would be much safer at Hogwarts than out here, what with Dumbledore, the Order and the Brethren on guard, but they were sceptical. I left Persephone to convince them- she needs the practise, and I'm a bit too personally involved with the Grangers," she replied. Harry understood her implications, for the Ridleys and the Grangers had been friends, until the former were massacred in a Death Eater attack during the late seventies, and the Grangers were left with no clue as to what had happened to the girl they used to baby-sit.

"How are you planning to protect Hermione's parents?" Ron asked, kicking a stone across the lawn, and barely missing Dudley's calves.

"Witness protection," Alex explained, stubbing out her cigarette on the grass with her foot. "We'll move them to an undisclosed area, give them new names and a new dental practise and monitor them until the war is over, when hopefully- providing we win- they can return to their old lives. Hermione's going to stay with Ron's folks at the Order headquarters in the school holidays."

"Beginning when?" Harry asked. Alex sighed.

"Beginning as soon as we get the Granger's consent," she replied, as though she thought this would prove to be very hard work. Ron looked at the window to the house, and scowled.

"That's if she can tear herself away from Krum for long enough," he muttered under his breath, only Harry heard him all too clearly. He mutely decided not to bring the issue up.

Persephone emerged from the back door, and gave Alex a 'thumbs up' signal.

"They've conceded," she shouted, walking towards them. Alex exhaled sharply.

"Oh, that's a relief," she replied, before looking anxious. "How did they take it?"

"Not too well," Persephone admitted, "but Hermione explained about how the school had been stepping up security all last year, and about how important her final year is, career-wise. Oh, and about how devastated she'd be if they stayed put and were found again by Voldemort's forces. They saw her logic. We should go and retrieve their things from their house."

Alex nodded.

"Sure thing- we'll go now."

She looked around at Harry.

"What about him?" she asked, and Harry felt affronted at her acting as though he weren't there. Persephone made eye contact with him, however.

"Harry," she said, "you'd better get packing. You'll be going with Ron and Hermione."

"Going where?" he asked, vaguely confused by what she meant. Persephone made a clucking sound with her tongue against the roof of her mouth to show her irritation.

"The house that's being kept for you, of course," she replied, simply, and Harry suddenly remembered he was a year away from finding himself on the wizarding property ladder. It was time to revisit 12 Grimmauld Place. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Order, Order!

Sitting at the dinner table with most of the Weasleys, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody and Mudungus Fletcher in Grimmauld Place, Harry thought you could cut the tension with a Severing Charm. Clearly, nobody knew what they ought to say in front of Hermione. Mrs. Weasley satisfied herself with endless offers of second helpings and topping up drinks. Moody, however, had a far more novel way of filling in the silences.

"Well, I think it's safe to say Voldemort's coming out in force now," he announced, grimly, whilst stabbing a potato with his fork. Mrs. Weasley glared at him.

"Alastor!" she hissed, before shooting a surreptitious glance at Hermione, who noticed Mrs. Weasley's reaction. Harry felt a wave of sympathy as he watched her quietly sigh, drop her head slightly and slowly carry on eating. Mad-Eye Moody was oblivious to all of this.

"Well, there's no point coddling them now, Molly. Not when things have got so serious. You'll have to watch yourselves at school, kids. Brethren or no, chances are Voldemort's going to try and attack- especially with you there, Harry!"

He looked directly at Harry with both his normal eye and his swivelling magical blue one. Harry felt slightly queasy- knowing you were in danger was one thing, but being reminded of it constantly was entirely another.

"Don't you worry, laddie," he continued, unabated, "I trust the Brethren. Anyone who's dedicated their lives to exterminating Death Eaters is alright in my book."

Harry looked across at Lupin, whose face had set in an expression of concern. He appeared somewhat dubious; though he said nothing. Moody's magical eye swivelled in Lupin's direction.

"You know something Lupin? You'd make a rubbish spy," he said, blithely, and Lupin dropped his fork at the comment.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he retorted, in a voice far calmer than his facial expression would have suggested. Moody laughed, and the sound was gravelly and gruff.

"Come on, Lupin, don't sit on the fence- tell us what you really think, because it's written all over your face," he challenged. Lupin picked his fork back up and moved his vegetables around his plate with deliberate precision.

"I just... I can see where they're coming from, and they have some good ideas, but... well, their attitude to life and death just seems so cavalier. I just think that they're stooping to Voldemort's level," he said, concentrating more and more on his meal the further into his explanation he got.

"What makes you think that? From what I can tell, they don't kill unless they've no other option- that's more than Crouch ever did," Moody said, still eating quite happily. Everyone at the table stared at Lupin with interest, and he seemed visibly uncomfortable with the attention his opinion was garnering.

"Just something Persephone was on about- the casual way she talked about her deaths..."

"Well, she's used to it," Tonks butted in.

"She only found out a few months ago," Harry piped up, quietly. Tonks looked at him.

"Huh?"

"About dying at Voldemort's hands. She only knew about that once she got her memory back, and that wasn't that long ago," he reiterated. Tonks nodded in understanding.

"But if something like that happens to you, I reckon you just have to accept it and not think on it too much, otherwise you'd go mad," she reasoned.

"Maybe, but it just doesn't sit well with me," Lupin continued. "Moving on into death, and then backtracking into the land of the living? Ghosts and vampires refuse to go near her because of it, and Merlin only knows what damage the whole process could have done- to both her and her lifelines. Plus, well... she's hardly the most unassuming of people."

"That's just her personality; if anything, a certain amount of arrogance seems to help in her line of work," Tonks countered. "How can you convince others when you're spying if you don't believe in yourself?"

Bill snorted into his wine goblet.

"I'm more concerned about the fact that she's a Snape, myself," he added. Fred blanched.

"Oh, come on, Bill, don't remind me," he moaned, whilst George almost fell off his chair laughing. Harry had to pretend to drink deeply from his own goblet, in order to mask the smile that he knew was tugging at his lips. Fred was clearly unimpressed with the realisation that he had fleetingly nursed a vague physical interest in one of Snape's offspring last year.

Lupin gulped quickly from his goblet.

"That's another thing," he said, placing the silver article down on the table. "Their leader, Alex Ridley. I spoke to Severus about what happened a few weeks ago. He was most loath to discuss things, but I managed to get a little from him- and what I got worried me further."

Molly stared straight at him.

"What?" she asked, suddenly. Lupin sighed.

"I know she let him go and got him patched up, but that was after she found out... well, whatever it is between them both. Before that, she was about to slit his throat, and without much deliberation, either," he replied. Moody slammed his hand on the table so hard, it made Ron and Hermione, who were sat the closest to him, jump from the vibration.

"Lupin, are you honestly going to take Snape's word for it? He is a little biased about the whole thing- he was the one on the sharp end of the sword."

Lupin lifted his head and looked up at Moody.

"He was the one making excuses for her. I... I just think we should tread a little carefully, that's all."

There was silence for a moment, which was broken only by Tonks proclaiming, "Well, anyone- questions, comments?" a little too sarcastically for Harry's liking. Then he noticed how Hermione had been staring at her goblet for almost the entire conversation.

"Well, they did save my life, and my parents, but what do I know?" she said, quietly, but not without venom. Lupin looked aghast.

"Oh, Hermione, I am sorry- I didn't mean to diminish their efforts at all, I know they are a valuable asset..." He calmed down and corrected himself. "I just think we as the Order have got a little too relieved at this alliance. We shouldn't blind ourselves to their faults, for they have them, just like we do."

Hermione seemed satisfied by this response, but it didn't stop Lupin staring at her with concern for the rest of the meal. Harry could see her grow increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Hey, Harry- have you been sent your Apparition test date yet?" Ron asked, changing the subject so abruptly, Harry presumed it was a deliberate effort to reduce the tension.

"Erm, I haven't heard anything yet," he replied. Ron swallowed a mouthful of food.

"Well, you should hear soon- they issue you a test date by order of your surname and your date of birth. I reckon you should get yours any day now."

Harry felt something tighten in the pit of his stomach.

"But I haven't even started practising yet!" he exclaimed.

"It won't take long to get to test standard. I could help you practise, if you like," Lupin offered, finally taking his attention away from Hermione, and Harry saw her sigh in relief.

"Yeah, that'd be good, thanks," Harry replied. Knowing the same man that taught him how to cast a Patronus charm was going to help him pass his Apparition test eased his nervousness somewhat.

Ron didn't seem to think it such a good idea, however.

"Are you sure, Harry?" he asked. "I practised with my Dad, and we got into a right old lather about it. He'd been taught different ways of doing things than you're taught now, plus we just kept getting on each other's nerves. Charlie taught me in the end... Here, you could ask Persephone!" he exclaimed, enthusiastically. Hermione looked surreptitiously at Lupin.

"No, Harry," she said carefully. "I think Lupin would be better at teaching you something like this."

Ron shrugged.

"Maybe- Persephone would probably be a bit busy, anyway," he conceded. Harry looked up at Lupin, who smiled too cheerily.

"It's perfectly alright, Harry," he said. "I don't mind if you'd rather Persephone helped you. She would have learned only a few years ago, anyway- she'd have a better idea of what the examiners require from you nowadays than I would."

"No, I'd like it if you taught me," Harry replied. To be honest, the idea of Persephone teaching him hadn't crossed his mind even once, and Ron mentioning it hadn't made it any more obvious. Knowing her, she'd probably teach her something illegal and dangerous; not really Harry's idea of a successful Apparition technique.

Lupin practically beamed, and the lines around his face suddenly increased in depth.

"Well, alright, Harry- if you like, we could make a start tomorrow," he replied, as he helped Molly clear away the crockery and cutlery on the table.

"Great!" Harry replied.

"'Ere, 'Arry," Mudungus Fletcher suddenly piped up, "you don't 'appen to know if your Percy knows of anyone who might appreciate a couple of flagons of cheap Hemlock Liquor?"

Harry shrugged.

"Haven't a clue," he replied. Although he had no idea what 'Hemlock Liquor' was, he got the impression from the way Mudungus winked at him that it wasn't strictly legal.

"What's Hemlock Liquor?" he whispered to Hermione.

"It's a form of deadly poison. Difficult to brew, but has a similar taste to some alcoholic drinks, hence the name," she whispered back. Ron looked at her oddly.

"How do you know that?" he asked. Hermione shrugged.

"It was in 'Silent Witness- The Use of Lethal Potions'," she replied.

Ron nodded, in a manner that suggested her words had explained everything.

"A school book," he whispered to Harry. "No wonder I didn't know- I don't open mine unless I really have to."

Molly glared at Mudungus.

"Honestly," she chided, "how many times- the Order is here to fight Voldemort's forces, it is not some opportunity for you to flog your dodgy gear!"

Mudungus raise his palms in capitulation.

"Oh come on, Molly- the girl's got contacts. Might as well make the most of them, seeing as we're all in this together," he said, defensively, before adding, "she might want them, actually," in a moment of inspiration.

"She's not a criminal, she's a teacher!" Molly countered. Mudungus laughed.

"Yeah, 'cause busting out an Azkaban inmate ain't a crime..."

"And Death Eaters can be headmasters now, just look at Karkaroff... well, before he scarpered, anyhow," Moody added.

Ron nudged Hermione sharply in the ribs, at which she winced, and he apologised profusely.

"What was all that about ensuring Lupin taught Harry Apparition? You don't think Persephone would get him Apparating around the globe for practise, or anything, do you?"

Hermione tutted.

"Well, I suppose I wouldn't put it past her, but Persephone wasn't the reason at all!"

Ron and Harry looked at each other, until they both realised neither of them had a clue as to what Hermione was getting at.

"Well then, why the insistence of getting Lupin to do it, then?" Ron asked, again. Hermione rolled her eyes, and leant in to them both.

"Honestly, can't you two see what's the matter?"

"Erm, no," Harry answered, truthfully.

"I think Lupin's feeling a little... put out, by Persephone," she whispered. Ron looked as though she had just tried to explain Advanced Arithmancy to him.

"Come again?" he asked.

"Look, Sirius made Lupin your trustee, right, Harry?"

"Right."

"So, he trusted Lupin with your welfare, and Lupin went out of his way to ensure you were informed and supported during things like Sirius' reading, and during school when he answered your questions, and when he went to pick you up from Kings Cross at the end of term. Well, now he's got Persephone trying to do pretty much the same thing for you, plus she's trying to get Sirius a posthumous pardon. I think perhaps he feels..."

"Jealous?" Ron asked. Hermione laughed.

"No, no, no! Not jealous. More... like she's doing the things Sirius wanted him to do, despite him being the better friend, not to mention he doesn't exactly seem to like Persephone. Just let him help you out, Harry, that's all I'm saying," she replied.

The three of them looked across at where Lupin was helping Mrs. Weasley with the washing up. He looked weary, but peaceful as he conjured foaming water to squirt across the plates. He turned around, giving Harry a friendly smile, and it suddenly struck him how much Lupin cared for him, in his own way. He smiled back.

"What time tomorrow?" he asked. Lupin frowned a little in thought.

"Nine o'clock not too early for you in the holidays?" he asked, and Harry nodded.

"Nine would be great, I'll be ready," he replied, before he noticed that Hermione and Ginny had snuck off on their own.

"Where have they gone?" Harry asked. Ron shrugged.

"Girl stuff. I don't get it- girls and their girl stuff," he grumbled. Harry couldn't help but grin.

"That's why it's called girl stuff, I suppose," he replied. Ron sighed heavily, and Harry knew it was because he didn't like to be kept in the dark over anything, especially where Hermione was concerned.

"Do you fancy a game of chess?" Ron asked. Harry nodded, even though he knew he would face a shameful defeat courtesy of his red-haired friend.

On the way up to the room they were sharing, where Ron had stowed away his chess set, they heard giggling coming from Hermione and Ginny's room- a giggling that turned into absolute howls of pealing laughter. Harry recognised it as belonging to Ginny.

"What's got into her?" he asked Ron, who shrugged.

"Dunno- the two of them are just scary when left on their own," he replied. Harry just about made out the words, "How am I going to keep a straight face in his classes now?" before he and Ron went into their room and shut the door.

Nine o'clocks for the next fortnight became routine. Harry would be up, dressed and finishing breakfast- Hermione's present of 'Pass the Apparition Test First Time!' propped up in front of him, before Lupin arrived, holding yet more dog-eared books on Apparation theory.

Today, however, was slightly different, for Harry was busy reading his mother's diary. Again. He had the slim red volume hidden between his book from Hermione, as though he was sneakily reading it, which truthfully was exactly what he was doing. In an odd way, it helped him to read how his mother got through such a tricky situation as having a child at fifteen, for he could relate to having that kind of pressure placed on your shoulders, and essentially having to handle it yourself. Of course, Harry was far from alone in the war, but he knew that whatever he had to do, he would have to do alone- the Prophecy said as much; he was the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord.

'24/01/75

Right, I'm stating this, for the record: boys are stupid. "Oh, don't worry, Lily, I'll make it all okay..." Stupid, stupid him, and stupid, stupid me for agreeing to go along with it. Do you want to hear Severus' great idea? Well, he's been brewing some potion on the sly that I have to drink every day to ensure that my pregnancy is concealed. Then, once I'm about ready to give birth, I'm going to go to Sweden (or somewhere in Eastern Europe), where the age of consent is much lower, to have the child. Then, his elder sister (who has wanted kids for decades, but can't have them) is going to raise it. I mean, her. No one will be any the wiser, my reputation will remain unblemished... and it's absolutely insane! But I've agreed to it, which is why I'm writing this entry in a pretty little spare room in Porphyria Beauchamp's cottage in Nice.

The Beauchamps are really nice, to be fair. Porphyria is a little overbearing, but her heart's in the right place- just to the left of her lungs (tee hee, did you like my joke?). She was telling Severus off when we first got here for getting me pregnant in the first place. I wasn't supposed to hear what she was saying, but when she started yelling, even the thick walls couldn't contain the words. I couldn't help but smile- she's lovely, don't get me wrong, but when she's angry, she's got a voice that could peel paint off the skirting boards.

I might just like her because she's really, really nice to me, though. I had my suspicions that she desperately wanted me to agree to this ludicrous idea, which her husband, Fran?ois, confirmed. He is very, very French- I mean he has the accent, the clothes- even in his wizard robes, I could just feel the Frenchness coming off him in waves. Plus, he was a little bit cute, I must admit, if facial hair is your thing.

"Lily, are you absolutely sure zat you want to go through wiz zis?" he asked me, when handing me a cup of tea. I nodded and said yes. He looked at me quizzically, then said, "My Porphyria, she eez very... she very much wants a child, and young Severus... well, he eez one of ze clan- they believe very much in ze, 'ow do you call eet? Sanctity of life, zat eez eet. But, neither of zem would 'old eet against you eef you decided not to go through wiz eet."

"Wouldn't they?" I snorted, then wished I hadn't. Fran?ois smiled, and shrugged his shoulders in that way only French people can. Honestly, it's such a cool, Devil may care action, and if you are not French, you just won't be able to pull it off.

"Eet 'as to be your decision. Porphyria would not want you to do this unless you were certain, and neither would I. Severus... I know he eez a... well, do not tell Porphyria I said this, but he eez a very strange little boy. Naturally- 'ee 'as 'ad a lot of troubles at 'ome, I am sure you know more than me..."

This intrigued me, for I didn't know anything about Severus' home life. I had to assume Porphyria, or Severus, had told Fran?ois that there was more to our relatnship than there actually was, which made sense really. Far better for them to think we were love's young dream, and had committed a mistake in passion, than the truth- which was pretty much alcohol and temporary insanity on my part, and most likely opportunism on his. I jumped in shock as Fran?ois put a hand on my arm.

"But, he 'as a good heart, he really does. He would not want to make you un'appy," he explained. I smiled and said that yes, I truly was happy about this plan, and I meant it. Nobody finds out I was dumb enough to get knocked up by the school weirdo, Severus gets to abide by his 'sanctity of life' religious... well, whatever he and his clan are so dedicated to, while Porphyria and Fran?ois get to have the baby they've always wanted- where's the bad?

You know, I might well have changed my mind if Severus had told me the ingredients of this concealment potion earlier. Frogs' skin? How revolting- I daren't ask where he got such ingredients. No doubt he pilfered Professor Elliot's store cupboard during a Potions class...'

A heavy thump of books on the table in front of him, jolted Harry back to the prest, and he hastily hid the diary away in his robe pocket. Lupin was in front of him, and appeared not to have noticed Harry's attempt at subterfuge.

"I thought these might be helpful with the theory of Apparating," he explained. Harry looked at the titles printed onto the spines of the books; 'The Theory of Apparition', 'Apparition, Wow!', and 'The Beginners Guide to Apparition'.

"Okay," he replied, "but when do I get to actually have a go today? I'm sure we spend longer theorising that practising!"

Lupin smiled weakly.

"All in good time, Harry. We'll definitely do a lot more practise today, you'll be likely to receive your test date today, anyhow."

Harry wasn't exactly cheered by the words 'test date today'. He was hoping for longer than a fortnight to get to grips with things, but truth be told, he was more eager to get stuck into the practical aspect of Apparating- books were Hermione's thing. He trusted Lupin's methods, though, and so he simply nodded and agreed with Lupin's suggestions.

A little way into Lupin's revision of how exactly you choose where you are and where you want to end up, Harry heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by female voices. It appeared that Hermione and Ginny were up.

"...Have you told Persephone?"

"No!"

"Well, don't you think you should? If she tells him, it could get messy... Hi, Harry!" Ginny said, as she walked into the kitchen. Harry waved back, for he was still listening to Lupin. Hermione merely waved at him, and Harry was sure it was because she didn't want to interrupt his lesson.

"Harry, are you paying attention?" Lupin asked, kindly. Harry nodded.

"Yep- you were talking about how you decide where you want to go during Apparating," he explained, to demonstrate his point. Lupin smiled at him cynically.

"Alright, I believe you. Now, remember the most important rule of Apparition is... well, the most important rule of Apparition really is 'don't get splinched'. The second most important rule of Apparition is 'LUCK'."

"Luck?" Harry asked. He supposed it made sense, in a way- not getting splinched was indeed lucky, but he hoped escaping such a fate relied on more than mere luck.

"No, Harry," Lupin explained, "LUCK. Look where you are, ensure you are Unseen by Muggles, Concentrate on your intended destination and employ Kinetics to get there."

"Oh. Right, sorry- I knew that," Harry replied, feeling a little silly.

Hermione was frowning over a copy of the Daily Prophet, as she stood over the table holding a cup of tea in her free hand.

"They still haven't found Lucius Malfoy, or caught Bellatrix Lestrange," she announced, darkly. "I'm guessing they should have tried my house the other week- I wouldn't be surprised."

Harry noticed that Lupin practically jumped out of his seat to go over to her.

"Hermione, are you okay? Perhaps you shouldn't read the Daily Prophet for a few days, there's bound to be a lot of difficult articles in there. I could always keep them for you until you feel up to reading..."

"Lupin! I'm fine!" Hermione replied, briskly, as she slammed her cup down on the table. "I just don't need you fussing. I'm safe, my parents are safe- what's there not to be okay about?"

Lupin sighed.

"I'm just trying to help," he reasoned, and Hermione's shoulders slouched at his words.

"I know. I'm just coping in my own way," she said, quietly. "I'd like to know what you think Lucius Malfoy might be up to, though."

"I think he's most likely still working for Voldemort, and he is helping Malfoy evade the Aurors," Lupin replied, in hushed tones. Hermione exhaled deeply and rubbed her right temple with her hand. Gingerly, Lupin put a tentative hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort, and Ginny inexplicably burst out laughing. Lupin eyed her curiously.

"What's the matter, Ginny?" he asked. Ginny bit her knuckle for a moment, her face red from giggling.

"Nothing, nothing- I'm sorry. It really has got nothing to do with you, don't worry about it," she babbled, whilst fastidiously avoiding making eye contact with Hermione.

Lupin looked nonplussed, before he turned back to face Harry.

"Well, do you think you've got the idea?" he asked, and it took Harry a moment to realise he was referring to the rules of Apparition.

"Yeah, I think so," he replied. Lupin smiled.

"Excellent- do you want to start practising?" he asked. Harry couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"You bet I do!" he replied. Hermione grinned.

"Can I watch?" she asked. "I haven't seen you do any of this yet- it would be useful for when I eventually get to take my test..."

Lupin looked at Harry, who grudgingly nodded his approval.

"I don't see why not," he replied.

"...No, no- Harry, Concentrate... Concentrate!" Lupin said, as calmly as he could.

"Look, I'm getting the hang of it!"

"Harry, watch out for that wall..."

"Just stop badgering me! I'm never going to learn if you keep interrupting my concentration!" Harry shouted back. Lupin sighed in irritation.

"Easy for you to say- it isn't your book collection you were about to crash into..."

"I wasn't about to crash into your book collection. You're just being paranoid!"

Lupin swiftly grabbed Harry's wand hand.

"What did you do that for!" Harry snapped.

"Remember LUCK- Concentrate on where you're going. You can't concentrate on your destination if you're arguing with me," Lupin replied, rubbing his creased forehead.

"I'm not arguing!" Harry protested.

Ron sauntered into the drawing room at this point, and Harry saw him observe the situation with interest.

"Told you," he remarked to Hermione, who was sitting near him, casually flicking through a book.

"Told me what?" she asked. Ron rolled his eyes.

"That it would be a bad idea to let Lupin teach Harry Apparition. This is just what happened between me and my dad," he replied, wisely.

"We're doing fine!" both Harry and Lupin snapped, simultaneously. Ron raised his palms in an act of surrender.

"Okay, okay- you're both working like a well-oiled machine," he agreed, though the look on his face told Harry that he harboured reservations about their success. Personally, Harry felt he did better without an audience, thank you very much, but Lupin had pointed out that he would generally find himself surrounded by people when he Apparated or Disapparated, so Harry had bit his tongue and carried on regardless.

Lupin surveyed the room for a moment.

"Well," he said, and Harry swiftly faced him to demonstrate his unswerving attention. "One of the things you do get examined on is your ability to Apparate without attracting the attention of nearby Muggles... Ron, Hermione- could you do me a favour?"

"Sure... what is it?" Ron asked. Lupin smiled.

"If you and Hermione could just pretend to be Muggles for a moment..."

Ron placed his wand down on the nearby table.

"Okay."

Lupin sighed.

"Well, I didn't mean... never mind. I'd just like you and Hermione to stand over by that bookshelf and act as though you're just average Muggles, not expecting to see a young man Apparate or Disapparate into thin air, okay?"

"What kind of Muggles are we?" Ron asked. Lupin looked confused.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, in order to play a part, we kind of need an idea of who we are- Pleasemen? Kids?"

"Alright, alright!" Lupin though on this a moment, before replying, "You're a newly married Muggle couple, shopping for furniture- does that help?"

Ron turned the colour of beetroot. Hermione, however, merely laughed and entered into the spirit of the whole escapade by linking arms with Ron and pointing randomly in the air.

"I think something in a teal would match the curtains that Verity bought us, or perhaps... Ooh, this one is nice, don't you think? Ron- you're not looking bored enough!"

"Huh?" Ron asked, clearly confused by Hermione's words. Harry realised he was equally stumped.

"I'm just using my parents as an example of a Muggle married couple- Dad would be very bored at this point, and not hiding it..." She trailed off all of a sudden. Ron put a tentative hand on her arm.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking warmly at her. Hermione shook her head quickly, then smiled.

"Yes... yes, I'm fine," she replied briskly, "it's just... it reminds me, that's all. It's okay, though."

Suddenly, Ginny ran into the drawing room, her cheeks tinged pink from running and her hair flying out in all directions. She was holding a couple of envelopes in her hands.

"Harry," she panted, "these are for you. Mum retrieved the owl post today- they came about half an hour ago." She handed Harry two envelopes. One was the familiar Hogwarts letter, which Harry noticed was a week earlier than usual.

"Hmm... maybe we've got them now because Dumbledore isn't still desperately trying to find a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Hermione said, answering Harry's unasked question. He was about to respond, when he heard an ear-piercing shriek come from Hermione.

"Oh my God, oh my God," she kept repeating, fanning herself with her Hogwarts letter.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, before Harry managed to get the words out.

"I've been made Head Girl!" she gasped, before both she and Ginny collectively shrieked in joy.

"Half breeds! Filthy Mudblood scum besmirching the house of my Fathers!" a sadly all too familiar voice screeched.

"Who shouted?" Mrs. Weasley yelled from upstairs. Lupin flinched, and Hermione clasped her hand to her mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I just got a bit excited," she said apologetically. Lupin smiled.

"It's okay- congratulations, Hermione. Now, I'd better go and help sort Mrs. Black out," he said, before walking towards the door.

"Yeah, well done, Hermione- not that I'm surprised you got it," Harry said, with a smile. Hermione smiled back.

"Thanks," she replied, before looking across at Ron. He had opened his Hogwarts letter, but was holding something in his hand, and he looked reluctant to let them see it.

"Come on, Ron, let us see," Harry said, and Ron gingerly opened up his hand to reveal a silver pin with 'Head Boy' engraved on it. Harry beamed.

"Congratulations, Ron," he said, and was grateful the mild bitterness didn't reach his vocal cords. He was truly happy for Ron, and he could just imagine how thrilled Mrs. Weasley would be, but he couldn't help but feel a little sad that he wasn't going to have the chance to worry about such things as school matters. He'd be too busy worrying about defeating Voldemort.

Harry shook himself from his thoughts in time to see Ginny grinning from ear to ear.

"Wow, Ron- wait until I tell Fred and George!" she exclaimed. Ron looked as though Ginny had just threatened to set fire to his Cleansweep broomstick.

"Ginny, please don't," he begged, which caused Ginny to laugh.

"Mum will tell them sooner or later- just be glad that out of all your siblings, you've only got me to deal with at Hogwarts."

Ron sighed deeply, but Ginny continued.

"Still, it'll be fun. All those Head Boy and Head Girl duties, the ones you both have to do, with nobody else around..."

"Be quiet, Ginny!"

"You and Hermione, spending all that time together..."

"Just shut your mouth, Ginny!" Ron exclaimed, hotly. Ginny failed in suppressing a snigger, before running out of the room shouting, "Mum, guess what Ron got in the post from Hogwarts?"

Harry heard Mrs. Weasley scream with elation, which was swiftly followed by, "Half breeds! Filthy Mudblood scum besmirching the house of my Fathers!"

"Oh, Molly! I just got her quiet..."

"Sorry, Remus."

Soon enough, Mrs. Weasley bustled into the drawing room, grabbing Ron and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Oh, well done, Ron!" she exclaimed, ignoring Ron's attempts to pull away from her grip. "My youngest boy... I'm so proud! I must tell your father right now!"

Ron grimaced.

"Okay, Mum," he replied, quietly, as Mrs. Weasley walked towards the doorway. She hesitated a moment.

"Ron, is there anything you'd like as a congratulations present?" she asked. Ron seemed to think about this for a moment.

"I'm not sure there is, Mum. I think I've got everything I need," he said, though Harry could see the fear in Ron's eyes that suggested he was concerned with his answer. Most likely he was concerned because if he couldn't think of anything he wanted, he was unlikely to get anything he wanted, either. Mrs. Weasley smiled, however.

"Well, I'm sure we'll be able to sort something out when we go to get your school things," she replied. Ron seemed relieved at this.

It was around this point that Harry noticed Hermione slip quietly away. Concerned, he followed her, for it wasn't like Hermione to sneak off when she was already in a room that contained books.

"Hermione?" he called, tentatively, and on not hearing Mrs. Black's shrill voice, he called out Hermione's name once more.

He soon found her huddled away in a corner of the staircase, crying quietly into her jumper, and he suddenly felt a wave of sympathy wash over him.

"Hermione, what's the matter?" he asked, gently putting his hand over hers. She sniffed, looked up at him, and quickly wiped her eyes.

"Nothing, I'm fine," she protested, jumping to her feet and trying to make a run for it. Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and made her face him.

"You're clearly not fine," he replied, as gently as he could, and she sat back down on the stairs.

"It's just," she sighed, "when I got that letter saying I was Head Girl, the first thing I thought of was how pleased my parents would be, and how I ought to tell them... then I remembered that I couldn't."

She sighed again, and Harry's hand had rested on hers before he'd even registered the movement.

"I know I didn't see my parents much, being at Hogwarts for most of the year," Hermione continued, "but not seeing them because you simply can't just feels awful."

Harry nodded. He knew only too well how Hermione felt, for there had been many times over the past fifteen years where he had wanted to speak to his parents, but simply couldn't.

"You haven't opened your other letter," Hermione quietly pointed out a few moments later, looking at the unopened letter Harry held in his hands. Harry rectified the situation, and scan-read it. His stomach suddenly felt like lead.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry pushed the letter into her hands and exhaled nervously.

"It's my Apparition test date," he replied. "It's in about three hours!"

Hermione looked at him appraisingly for a moment.

"Well, you'd better go and get ready, hadn't you," she chided. Harry sighed.

"Yes, Professor Granger," he teased. Hermione swatted his arm.

"You need to let Lupin know- he'll be able to take you there," she said, as Harry stood up and made his way upstairs.

Lupin was only two floors up, busily trying to fathom a way of keeping the curtains that hid Mrs. Black's portrait from the world permanently closed, and Harry was loath to interrupt him. He didn't need to, though, for Lupin turned around almost as soon as Harry was in the vicinity.

"Everything okay, Harry?" he asked. Harry showed him the letter.

"I've had my Apparition test date- it's in a few hours," he replied. Lupin raised his eyebrows, and left the curtains alone.

"Would you like me to come with you?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"I really, really would," he said, not even trying to hide his nervousness. Lupin smiled.

"Just try and stay calm- it'll be fine," he said, encouragingly. Harry smiled weakly, and tried to pretend that Lupin's words made him feel any better.

"Where is the test place?" Harry asked, whilst making a conscious effort not to jiggle his foot and thus give away his agitation.

"It's in Goldner's Green, just opposite the bus station," Lupin replied, before looking at Harry again and trying to suppress a smile.

"And Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Relax!" Lupin insisted. Harry fought the urge to clutch his stomach. The very idea of relaxing when faced with such a huge test seemed an impossible feat.

Three hours later, sat in the spartan waiting room of the Apparition Test Centre and staring at the 'Verbal abuse or cursing of the examiners will not be tolerated' sign, Harry though the idea of relaxing even more impossible. He looked across at the other people in the room, and saw a girl of his age systematically chew each of her nails to the quick with every passing second. Harry looked away and tried to focus his concentration on something other than his impending test, or the girl and her rapidly diminishing nails. He eventually studied yet another poster, which had a disappearing and reappearing teenage witch, beaming from ear to ear, with the slogan 'Have you got your new Photo-Apparition License? Sign up today!'

A door opened, and a familiar face appeared.

"Hi, Harry!" Neville shouted, breaking off from his grandmother and running over to him, beaming with pride.

"Hey, Neville- did you just have your test?" he asked. Neville nodded.

"Yep- I passed! I'm so pleased!" He lowered his voice and glanced furtively across at his grandmother. "It's another thing Nan can keep off my back about," he whispered, and Harry managed a smile. Neville patted him on the shoulder.

"It's not that bad, actually- don't worry," he said, but Harry wasn't comforted by his words.

A wooden door opened and a short, portly man with a receding hairline, balding crown and curly grey hair everywhere else on his head announced, "Potter, Harry- could you follow me please?"

Harry felt his heart jump up and play a quick, frantic tune on his ribcage.

"Good luck, Harry," Lupin said, as Harry followed the portly man through the doorway. He could hear the girl who had been chewing her nails ask, "Mum, is that the Harry Potter?" before the door shut and Harry was being beckoned down a set of concrete steps.

"Now then, Mr. Potter- can I call you Harry?" the man asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine," he replied.

"Harry- my name is Christopher Josephs, and I'll be examining you today... If you could just sign here," he asked, handing Harry his clipboard as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Harry nodded, and Christopher handed him a plain grey quill. He looked at the declaration that stated 'I hereby allow permission for the A.T.C. to transport me immediately to St. Mungo's if there should be any serious accident on the test', and signed along the dotted line. Christopher smiled, and took the clipboard and quill back off him.

"Right, this way, if you please, Harry," he said, and opened a door. Harry walked inside.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing. It was an enormous room- it made Faith Hamilton's workshop look tiny. The entire room was fashioned like a perfect scale model of a city, complete with parks, shops, streets, roads- each individually named, Harry could tell from the signs. There was a public library, and a hospital, too. None of the buildings were taller than three feet, yet they looked so perfect, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if they had been victim to a Reducing charm.

Christopher pointed to a street sign about twenty metres away and said to Harry, "Now, would you just read out the name of that road, please?"

Harry could just about see it fairly clearly with his glasses on.

"Nicodemus Terrace," he announced, clearly, and Christopher nodded, holding his clipboard while his quill floated around next to it.

"Right," he announced, "the test will last approximately thirty-five minutes, during which I will ask you to follow my directions, and to perform two Apparition manoeuvres. If you want clarification on an instruction, I can do so, but I cannot offer you any assistance pertaining to the test. Good luck."

Harry took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, before swallowing in what he thought was a rather loud way. Christopher paid little attention.

"Right, Harry, if you could just Apparate from Kings Road to Chevalier Alley..."

Harry did as he was told, walking along the miniature road until he reached one with the sign Kings Road. He remembered Lupin's acronym; Look, be Unseen, Concentrate on your destination...

He found himself standing in Chevalier Alley, unharmed, the examiner right behind him. Christopher put a small scratch onto the clipboard with his quill.

"Now, Harry, I'd like you to Apparate from here to Northmeade Park, taking care to avoid undue attention," he announced. Harry was about to Apparate already, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw three miniature people- a man, woman and a small child- walking along the road. He waited until the miniature charmed models-well, he certainly hoped they were just charmed models- had walked away, and he was no longer in their line of vision, before he complied with the instruction. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when Christopher made no movement with his quill.

"There's no need to be nervous, Harry," he remarked, kindly.

"Easy for you to say," Harry thought, but he merely smiled back, albeit weakly, at Christopher.

The test continued on in this vein for a while, Harry doing his utmost to forget an incident where he Apparated away, and could have sworn one of the models saw him, or the time he nearly Apparated far too close to a doorway for comfort, and has heard Christopher's quill scratch his damned clipboard again.

"Okay, Harry, if you could just Apparate to this corner on your left..."

Harry did as he was told.

"Right," Christopher continued, as he scratched his clipboard with his quill yet again. "I'd like you to perform a standard Apparition in the opposite direction. I want you to face in the opposite direction to the one you are in now within two Apparitions, taking care to avoid prying eyes or collisions with other road users."

Harry took a deep breath, and began the manoeuvre, checking in an almost obsessive manner that nobody was around to spot him. Eventually he managed it in two turns, the first one put him almost 180 degrees around from his original position, and the second straightened his position up. Christopher put a scratch in his clipboard, and smiled.

"Okay, Harry, if you could just Apparate away to the third car parking bay in the City Limits Hospital..."

He recognised this as his final manoeuvre, and put all his effort into Apparating right into the exact bay Christopher requested, without going over the bay lines. He just about pulled it off, yet he still heard the scratch of a quill nib against paper. Christopher then began totting up little lines etched into his paper, and ignored Harry for about three minutes.

"Well, how did I do?" Harry asked, trying to hide the tone of impatience in his voice, once Christopher looked as though he had finished. Finally, Christopher looked up.

"I'm happy to tell you, you've passed. Congratulations, Harry," he said, tearing off the two sheets on his clipboard, and handing Harry one of them.

"Here's your copy of the test. You were a little sloppy with your observations- not enough to fail, but it might be something you want to keep an eye on once you start Apparating all over the place. Now, if you could just go through that door on the right, and hand in your sheet to Carol at the desk, and she'll present you with a wizard Apparition licence," he explained. Harry grinned, and did as he was told, clutching that piece of paper as though it were his lifeblood.

Carol at the desk looked supremely bored as she took Harry's form off him and handed him an iridescent pink card, which had a small photograph of him looking nervously around, and hiding the lightning bolt scar on his forehead with his hair.

"Congratulations, kiddo," Carol said, languidly. Harry smiled his thank you, and wandered off, staring at his card. It had his full name printed on it, his date of birth, the date his licence had been issued to him, and its expiry date. It was the most wonderful, liberating piece of plastic he had ever received- he could go anywhere within an instant, he and Ron could go all over the country- maybe even outside of the country. In a few months, Hermione would be able to come too- it was just the most amazing thing ever!

It was a pity it had to be pink, though.

Lupin was waiting in that spartan room, looking almost as nervous as Harry had felt when he'd left forty minutes ago. He caught Lupin's eye, and the man stood up.

"Well, how did it go?" he asked, quietly, once he had reached Harry. He grinned, and held up his licence for Lupin to view, who beamed with pride.

"Well done, Harry- see, I told you it would be okay," he said.

"Thanks, Lupin- you know, for helping me practise and stuff," Harry said, genuinely grateful for the help. Lupin smiled.

"You're welcome, Harry. I must admit, I'm glad you've passed- I don't think I could handle going through all that again!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah- it was a bit, erm, stressful," he said, carefully, and Lupin smiled in agreement.

"Here," Harry asked, "do you think we could Apparate back to... back home?"

"I don't see why not, although we can only Apparate to the corner of the street. The house is warded too much to allow us to Apparate in," he replied. Harry beamed gratefully.

"I just don't think my stomach could cope with the Knight Bus twice in one day," he explained, as they walked out of the test centre onto Goldner's Green. 


	5. Chapter 5

AN: IM BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK

Chapter Five: Didn't We Have A Lovely Time, the Day We Went To...

"But Mum, can't we Apparate..."

"You most certainly cannot, Ronald Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted, crossly. "You are not leaving your sister alone for one minute! Especially with things as they are now- you will all go via Floo powder to Diagon Alley, and you will all go together!"

They were all standing in the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place, where Arthur had managed to link the fireplace to the Floo network, for Order work. Well, that was what he had told the other members of the Ministry. Truth was, he had done it primarily so that it would be easier for Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny to get to Diagon Alley and purchase their school things.

Mrs. Weasley lowered her voice, presumably so that only Ron could hear, although Harry was close enough to hear her words.

"Think of Hermione, Ron. I don't think it would be a good idea to leave her wandering alone in Diagon Alley, especially after... you know, the Daily Prophet."

Ron looked confused.

"I don't understand," he said, dully. Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"The front page has... Hello, Hermione, dear!" she suddenly announced, too loudly and too cheerfully, as Hermione entered the room.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," she replied, tiredly.

"Hermione, you don't happen to have received your copy of the Daily Prophet yet, have you?" Mrs. Weasley asked, nervously. Hermione shook her head.

"No, not at the moment. The owl hasn't brought my copy yet. Why?" she asked. Mrs. Weasley, smiled, and put an arm around her shoulders.

"No reason- the... the owls must be a little late, that's it... Now, you four just enjoy yourselves at Diagon Alley, and don't leave Tonks' side without permission, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," they chanted, as though she were their teacher. She smiled, and pressed something into Ron's hand.

"Now, you buy yourself something nice while you're out there, dear," she said, and Ron looked gobsmacked at the weight of the small moneybag he had just been given.

"Come on, guys, let's get going," Tonks said, ushering them into order as Mrs. Weasley held out a pot of Floo powder for them.

"Here," Tonks nudged Harry. "Are you meeting Percy today?"

Harry nodded.

"Yeah- it was her birthday the other week, and I still haven't given her my present yet. We're going to meet at the Leaky Cauldron. Oh, you're all invited," he replied. Tonks grinned.

"Nice- I haven't seen old Percy for a while. Well, you know, not without Lupin tutting disapprovingly," she said.

"Why is Lupin tutting disapprovingly?" Hermione asked. Tonks tried to suppress a grin.

"I think he feels she's a bad influence on me," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean, it was nothing really- we just went for a few drinks..."

"Which cumulated in you both wandering along the High Street singing 'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot' at the tops of your voices, at three o'clock in the morning. Alexandra was furious! You know how lucky you were she didn't go to Shacklebolt about you?" Mrs. Weasley said. Tonks looked bashful.

"Yeah, well, Ridley did give us both a proper rollocking- and we've learned our lesson!" she explained. Mrs. Weasley contented herself with frowning at Tonks in a disapproving manner.

"What have you got Persephone?" Hermione asked, in an obvious attempt at changing the subject. Harry grimaced.

"Yeah, well- that's why I wanted to go to Diagon Alley so early," he replied. Hermione swatted him on the arm.

"Honestly, Harry- that's so disorganised!" she chided.

"I know, I know... I was thinking of getting her a chess set, you know, so she can indulge her lust for violence without actually getting herself or anyone else hurt," he explained. Tonks laughed heartily.

"You talk about her as though she's just a warrior!" she teased. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"Well, she kind of is," Harry replied, before taking a pinch of Floo powder, stepping into the fireplace and announcing, "Diagon Alley!"

The party of five stepped through the archway behind the Leaky Cauldron, and were faced with a comfortingly familiar cobbled street, with a myriad of shops adorning either side.

"Right, what do you all need, then?" Tonks asked, surveying the area.

"Well, I have all the books I need, although I would like to look in Flourish and Blotts for a copy of _'The Beginner's Guide to Universal Translation'_."

Ron looked askance at her.

"Why do you want yet more books- haven't our N.E.W.T.s provided you with more than enough?" he asked. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I finished reading them last year- I'm flabbergasted that we haven't received a new reading list for this year," she explained. Tonks giggled.

"Erm, Hermione- the books for the N.E.W.T. course cover both years of it," she replied. Hermione looked indignant.

"Well... Don't look at me like that, Ron- I just like to read!" she retorted, having glared at Ron, who was trying not to laugh.

"I need to get Persephone something... and to get some new school robes- the ones I've got at the moment are getting too short in the leg," Harry announced, hoping to defuse the potential argument between Ron and Hermione.

"I need to get some more stuff from Fred and George's shop," Ginny said. "Oh, and my N.E.W.T. books, I suppose," she added, almost as an afterthought, before grinning. "Wow- did you hear that? I just said I ought to buy my books for this year. Not 'I ought to borrow Ron's books for this year', but I can have my own, actual copies!"

Harry smiled. He understood how much Mr. Weasley's job had changed things for the better, but he hadn't really considered the financial benefits to the rest of the Weasleys until Ginny had spoken up about it. Ron looked a little embarrassed.

"Yeah... I want to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies! I hear they're demonstrating their new broom, the Lytenbolt," he said, changing the subject. "Course," he joked, "not that it'll be that new to me, having seen Harry's birthday present."

"Oh, yes, I'd really like to go there, too!" Hermione exclaimed, suddenly. Ron stared at her suspiciously, and he wasn't the only one who gave her that look.

"You? Since when have you been even remotely interested in Quidditch gear?" he asked. Hermione blushed a deep shade of red, and put her hand to her mouth.

"I was just... curious," she murmured into the sleeve of her robes. Ginny started to laugh, then calmed herself when Ron glared at her.

"Why do I feel like you two are in cahoots against me?" he asked, wearily. Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances.

"Relax, Ron. There's absolutely no cahooting going on, I promise!" Ginny replied, patting her brother on the back in a manner that served only to increase Ron's look of suspicion.

"Maybe you should try that little shop next to the menagerie? It sells loads of trinkets and the like- perfect for Birthday presents for your new big sister," Tonks suggested. Harry nodded.

"Okay- can we go there?" he asked.

"Sure," Ron replied, "but let's go to Quality Quidditch Supplies first- it's nearer, and..." He trailed off, and Harry saw why, as he noticed the huge crowd gathered around said shop.

"Wow- this new model is really getting people excited!" Ron enthused, pushing through the crowds to get a better look. Harry followed, but he noticed Hermione and Ginny sidle off to the left. He didn't get long to wonder why, as Ron stopped dead in his tracks.

Viktor Krum was there, holding the Lytenbolt, a surly look on his face that brightened only briefly. A photographer for the Daily Prophet took this opportunity to take a photograph, and a plume of purple smoke obscured the masses for a moment. Harry was surprised- he hadn't presumed Viktor to be the publicity-loving type, until he saw where Viktor had been looking, and how Hermione had beamed and waved back at him.

"So, _that's_ why he was in the country," Ron said, though Harry could hear that his words were edged with fury.

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry replied, neutrally. Ron snorted.

"To think, all this time he was claiming he'd come to see Hermione, when he was here on business," he continued.

"Actually, I'm sure he said he was in the country, and thought he'd visit Hermione..." Harry trailed off. It had suddenly dawned on him that it didn't matter one jot whether Viktor had visited Hermione on purpose or by accident- it was the fact that he had visited at all. If Harry hadn't known Ron for so long, he would have suspected that perhaps he...

"C'mon, let's go and look for Persephone's present," Ron grumbled, pushing past Harry and the remaining crowds. Harry looked around, and spotted Ginny standing next to Hermione and Viktor, who appeared to be holding hands.

"We're going to grab my N.E.W.T. books- we'll meet you in that shop. Good luck!" Ginny shouted to Harry, before the three of them went off in the direction of Flourish and Blotts.

Tonks gestured towards the shop.

"Shall we?" she suggested. Harry nodded, and she followed him into the little magical shop. The sign above its door read 'Curios and Curioser', and the bell above the door pealed into a rousing chorus of the hymn 'Jerusalem' when Harry pushed the door open.

Inside, the shop was cramped and musty smelling, and its shelves were packed with all manner of obscure, entertaining items. Harry found himself staring at such things as jewellery boxes with model ballet dancers that pirouetted of their own accord across the lid, and horrible collector's plates like those Umbridge decorated her office with when she was at Hogwarts- except that these featured small babies asleep in their cribs, or little girls wandering around clutching teddy bears in their hands. He noticed a glass display case with a variety of jewellery arranged in it, but none of it really grabbed him. Persephone didn't seem much of a jewellery person to him.

That was roughly the moment when it hit him that he didn't really know anything about Persephone. What do you buy for someone you don't really know much about?

"You could get her a hip-flask," Tonks mused, as she opened the pewter lid of one such item. It was encased in black leather with ornate silver stitching, and Tonks recoiled from the smell as she sniffed the neck of the flask.

"Or perhaps not," she added, placing the object back on the shelf.

Then, amongst a collection of model replica 1950's broomsticks and a set of Eighteenth Century sacrificial knives (complete with charmed transparent display case and certificate of authenticity), Harry spotted a chess set. It didn't stand out amazingly as a thing of beauty, nor did it boast any extraordinary features, it was merely a standard wizarding chess set, made in the early 1900's (according to the sale notice) with _'hand-crafted ebony and ivory figures made with painstaking attention to detail'_ and _'a charming three dimensional board- fashionable at the time, and perfect for those who like to be challenged and 'think outside the box', as it were, when it comes to board-games...'_ Somehow, it screamed Persephone.

"Cool, check out those knives," Ron exclaimed, awestruck, as he lifted the display case up and looked underneath it to get a full view of the knife set. "You should get Persephone this!"

"Hmm... I'm drawn to the chess set," Harry replied. Ron surveyed it critically.

"Well, the three dimensional ones are pretty tough- I beat Bill at a game when we went to visit him in Egypt. He taught me how to play," he replied.

"Oh, I hope you're not planning on buying those knives for Persephone," a familiar voice piped up from behind Harry. He turned around, and saw Hermione standing by his shoulder, eyeing the glass case.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"It's from an Italian tribe, and I think they and the Snapes were involved in some kind of blood feud centuries ago," she replied, knowledgably. "I know that Persephone and her family settled a few generations ago, but they do keep up a few traditions in keeping with their ancestors- it's possible that this might be one of them."

Harry nodded.

"I was more interested in the chess set, to be honest," he replied. Hermione blushed a little, and then turned her attention to the boxed chessboard.

"Oh, this is nice... ooh, it's three dimensional! Wow, that must be difficult... Yes, I think that would be a good choice, Harry," she replied.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Back then, I see- find your book?" he asked, in somewhat contemptuous tones. Hermione seemed confused by his reaction.

"Yes, I did," she replied, slowly. Ron merely made a small coughing noise and replied, "That's nice."

Harry noticed Ginny stood to the side of Hermione, giggling quietly into her sleeve, and avoiding eye contact with Ron. She did, however, look up at Harry and grin knowingly, which confused him. He looked away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, and saw Viktor Krum had hung back from the group, and was examining the glass display case that Harry had looked at briefly, before dismissing the jewellery inside as inappropriate gift material. He also noticed Ron glaring at Viktor in a manner that was strongly reminiscent of Snape when he was in one of his foulest moods with Harry.

"Erm, I'm just going to pay for this," Harry mumbled, before practically running to the pay desk at which a small, dark-haired witch sat at. She gift-wrapped the chess set for him, all the while explaining what a wonderful present it would make, and how he had such good taste. Harry merely smiled and, purchase in hand, left the shop, at which Ron, Ginny, Tonks and Hermione followed.

"Right, didn't you lot say you needed to replace your potions ingredients?" Tonks asked, wearily. Harry presumed she had noticed the somewhat tense atmosphere that had occurred in the curios shop.

"Oh, Viktor hasn't come out yet- we should wait for him," Hermione interjected. Ron snorted.

"Course, wouldn't want to leave a twenty year old international Quidditch star alone in a shop- who knows what harm could befall him," he grumbled under his breath. Unfortunately, Hermione heard him, and turned around to glare at him with equal venom.

At that point, Viktor came out of the curios shop, holding his left hand behind his back. Ron stopped glaring at Hermione, and instead glared at an oblivious Viktor.

"Yeah, I need some ingredients- let's go," Harry hastily said, in an attempt to ease the friction. Instead it just caused Ron to turn his glare from Viktor onto Harry. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"Great, come on, guys," she announced, and Harry quickly fell into step with her, along with Ginny. Shortly after, they noticed that neither Ron, Hermione nor Viktor had followed their example. Harry looked across at Ginny, who sighed heavily, and walked towards the three, who were stood in an awkward triangle, not quite facing each other.

"Come on, Ron- I need you to help me with my ingredients list," Ginny demanded, pulling on Ron's arm. Ron tried to shake from her grip.

"Wouldn't Hermione be a better choice, seeing as she's top of our N.E.W.T. Potions class?" he suggested. Ginny shook her head emphatically.

"No," she replied, dragging her brother away from Viktor and Hermione, the former of which was palpably relieved. Harry watched as he pulled his left hand from behind his back and gave Hermione a prettily wrapped up box.

"Viktor, what's this for?" Hermione asked. Viktor shrugged, and gave her a small smile.

"You," he replied. Hermione giggled.

"I can see that," she replied, "but why?"

Viktor shrugged again.

"Because I happen to like you. A lot," he replied, sincerely. Hermione blushed a deep scarlet colour, and carefully unwrapped the present. From the look on her face, she was clearly pleased with the gift.

"Oh, thank you, Viktor! It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. Viktor flushed a little.

"I am glad that you like it; here, I shall help you with the clasp," he said, taking the item out of its box- at which point Harry could see it was an ornate silver necklace adorned with some blue gemstones. Hermione lifted her hair away from her neck, and tilted her head a little away from Viktor, allowing him to place the necklace around her neck and to fasten it at the nape. He gently draped the fastened necklace around her collarbone with his fingers.

"There, it looks as pretty as you do," he said, quietly.

Hermione smiled, and turned to face him. She looked down at the necklace on her person, then looked up at him, and flashed another smile that Harry felt certain she had never directed at either him or Ron.

"It's really lovely," she whispered, stretching up on her tiptoes and planting a small kiss smack on Viktor's lips.

"Right, potion ingredients," Ron suddenly announced, in an odd sounding voice, as he strode past Harry and into the Apothecary. Tonks and Harry exchanged glances, before practically running to catch up with him.

By the time Harry found Ron in the Apothecary, he was busy angrily fiddling with the clasps of his Potions case. He was about to drop the entire case, before Harry took it from him and calmly opened the case up.

"What's up, Ron? You've been acting oddly ever since..." Harry trailed off, as he suddenly realised that of all the things he could have begun to suggest, a correlation with Ron's mood and the arrival of Viktor was not the best. Ron turned an angry shade of red.

"Nothing," he replied, gruffly, not looking Harry in the eye. After a few moments of silence, Ron eventually broke.

"Krum! He just turns up, sniffing around Hermione, and he's going to be off again in a few days- back to Bulgaria," he fumed.

"I think Hermione's well aware of that..." Harry began, but was cut off by Ron.

"It's disgraceful behaviour- I certainly wouldn't... wouldn't put up with it, if I were her. What does she see in him?" he asked, although Harry couldn't recall a single occasion outside of number four Privet Drive where he had been asked a question so aggressively.

"Let's just go and get our replacement ingredients," Harry suggested, and Ron nodded in agreement.

"I need some nettles, and I think... yep, I need some more Porcupine quills- you know, I swear Fred and George have been pilfering my supplies for some of their prototypes!" Ron complained, as they walked towards the counter.

"Hey, what's up?" Ginny asked, as she walked up to them.

"Just Potions shopping," Harry replied. Ginny idly picked up what looked like an animal appendage and examined it.

"Hermione and Viktor were just behind me, you know, in case you think we ought to warn Ron," she said, putting the appendage back into its display jar. Harry shrugged.

"I think he'll be fine," he replied, as he meandered over to the shop counter.

Suddenly, Ron grabbed Harry's shoulder, and he stopped walking.

"Maybe we ought to wait a few minutes?" Ron suggested, jerking his head towards the counter. Harry looked in the general direction Ron was intimating, and felt his face contort into a frown. Snape was standing at the counter, talking to the apothecary. Or, to be more accurate, the apothecary was talking to him.

"...Well, that lot should keep the little darlings amused for the next school year," the apothecary chimed, "but I must ask- yeast, ethanol, _hemlock?_ I have yet to see any potions requiring those sorts of ingredients on the curriculum..."

"Times change," Snape replied, curtly, before grabbing the large, wooden box the apothecary had filled with replenished vials and flasks. He signed a piece of parchment, which Harry assumed to be a tab of some sort, and walked off. Sadly, just when Harry thought they had avoided each other, he backed into a shelf, and Snape walked straight into him.

"It might be prudent to watch where you're going, Potter," he said, contemptuously, straightening his robes as he did so. Harry decided it would be unwise to rile his Potions professor before term had even started, so he replied, "Sorry, sir," as politely as he could muster. Snape merely raised an eyebrow at him in a manner that suggested he was severely unimpressed, before turning on his heel and walking towards the exit, at which point Hermione and Viktor rushed in. Harry watched as the two carefully disentangled their hands and backed up in order to allow Snape to pass.

"Good afternoon, sir," Hermione said, cautiously. Snape's default expression of contempt swiftly changed to one of suspicion.

"Miss Granger," he said, before making his way out of the door.

Except that to Harry's astonishment, Hermione stepped forward to stop him. Snape looked irritated.

"What is it?" he snapped. Hermione wrung her hands together a little and didn't quite meet his glare.

"I just wanted to say thank you, for last month. If you and Alex hadn't been there..." she trailed off, and stared hard at her shoelaces. Snape looked dumbstruck for a moment, but he quickly recovered.

"Alexandra and I had a job to do, and I hardly think Professor Dumbledore would have liked to come up with a replacement Head Girl, now, if you'll excuse me."

He walked out without so much as a backwards glance. Viktor stared at the empty doorway that Snape had just briskly walked though.

"I think that meant 'you're velcome'," he said, to nobody in particular.

"That git," Ron thundered. Harry could tell he was about to go into a long and vitriolic rant about Snape, perhaps even one that inadvertently projected onto Viktor, but instead they all found themselves distracted by a series of odd snorting sounds. Harry looked across in the general direction of the noise, and saw a quivering Ginny, her face hidden in her hands, though what was visible was a bright pink hue.

"Ginny, what's the matter?" Harry asked, tentatively. Ginny slowly moved her hands away from her face, and he could see her eyes were streaming, and judging from the broad grin on her face, she had been laughing to the point of being in pain. She exchanged a wary glance with Hermione.

"Nothing, I'm just feeling silly. Sorry," she replied. Harry shrugged.

"No problem," he replied.

Hermione gestured towards the apothecary counter.

"Perhaps we should get our replacement ingredients," she suggested. Ron nodded.

"I think you're right- he's been staring at us as though we're a bunch of shoplifters," he complained, as he offered the apothecary what looked to Harry like a fake smile.

They left, ingredients replaced, to find a seething Tonks waiting outside for them.

"What's up, Tonks?" Ron asked, "did you bump into Snape as well?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, slapping his arm. Tonks nodded, and thrust her hands into her pockets.

"He always calls me Nymphadora- it does my head in!" she fumed.

"Oh," Hermione mumbled, before becoming oddly quiet. She glanced at her watch and looked surprised.

"Harry, aren't you supposed to be meeting Persephone in a few minutes?"

Harry glanced at his watch and saw that Hermione was correct.

"Yeah, the Leaky Cauldron, she said- shall we go now?" he asked. Hermione nodded, and linked digits with Viktor once more.

"It vill be good to see her in better circumstances than the last time ve met," Viktor pointed out, which stunned Harry for a moment, until he remembered Viktor had been good friends with Persephone for the past ten years or so.

They walked along the alley towards the Leaky Cauldron. Ron walked defiantly alongside Harry and Tonks, whilst Ginny trailed behind all of them, her tinkling laughter invading Harry's ears with every step. Why was she finding practically everything amusing?

"Hold on," Hermione suddenly announced, "I need to go to the bank and get a bit more money out."

"I vill go with you," Viktor replied, quickly.

"Yeah- we can meet you in there," Hermione continued. Harry looked surreptitiously at Ron.

"No problem, we can all go, can't we, Harry?" Ron said, pointedly. Harry began to reply that it would be easier to meet them in the Leaky Cauldron, seeing as it was, literally, right in front of them, and that Gringotts was halfway down the street, but was stopped by the subtle application of Ron's heel against his shin.

"Erm, okay, we'll come with you," Harry finished, somewhat lamely.

Ginny grumbled about having to walk all that way for no apparent reason, but Ron, at least, was happier for the detour. Harry was certain Tonks was trying not to laugh, though she said nothing to confirm his suspicions.

Suddenly, Harry saw a tall, thin flash of black and red walk quickly past him. He quickly recognised it as being Persephone. He was about to catch up with her, when he noticed she had taken a sharp left just past Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, and disappeared down Knockturn Alley. He nudged Ron and pointed this out.

"What would she be doing down there? Knockturn Alley's well dodgy," Ron commented. Harry glanced at him.

"Fancy finding out?" he whispered back. Ron looked stunned.

"Harry! We can't go wandering around in Knockturn Alley- Tonks would kill us, if the clientele didn't get there first!" he hissed.

"Are you channelling Hermione or something? I just want to see what she's up to- maybe Mudungus convinced her to buy that Hemlock liquor, and she's trying to get rid of it," Harry suggested. Ron snorted.

"Oh yeah, can you really imagine anybody persuading Persephone to do something she didn't want to do?"

"No," Harry admitted, "it's just... well, I don't really know much about her. I guess I'm just curious."

"You could just ask her, you know- much more efficient, with the bonus of honesty," Ron retorted, but Harry had already started walking towards Knockturn Alley, having quickly told Tonks he wanted to stop at the Magical Menagerie to see if they had a spare perch for Hedwig's cage.

He soon heard Ron's footsteps behind him, though, and within about two minutes, they were both standing in Knockturn Alley, trying to avoid the denizens- the ones Harry remembered Hagrid describing as_"Unsavoury folk,"_ or words to that effect. Ron glared at him.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he said, and Harry thought he detected a hint of nervousness in his voice.

At that moment, Harry spotted Persephone hold the door of a shop open for a smaller, dark-skinned woman, whom he soon recognised as Alex Ridley. She followed her inside, and the door rattled shut. Harry looked up at the sign, which read '_Borgin and Burkes_'.

"I've been there before," Harry whispered, "when I first Flooed from your house in the second year."

Ron gulped.

"Yeah, nice looking place- if you've still got all your fingers, you're not a regular customer!" he exclaimed, albeit quietly. Harry walked towards the shop.

"Come on, Ron- let's go inside," he suggested. Ron looked askance at him.

"Are you mad?" he shrilled, hoarsely. Harry nodded.

"Worse case scenario, we say we got lost," he retorted. "Why are you so nervous, anyway? You've faced off with a perceived serial killer and a bunch of Death Eaters before now- but you're bothered about a dusty shop?"

Ron pointed at the shop window, and Harry saw an array of live tarantulas crawling about in a cage.

"Oh. I see," Harry replied, quietly, as he opened the door to the shop.

There appeared to be nobody about, which struck Harry as odd, considering he had just seen Persephone and Alex enter the establishment. He tiptoed across the dusty floorboards, and checked to see if Ron was following his example. He was.

"Cor, there's some well dodgy stuff in here," he exclaimed, in a tone of interest, as he stared at what looked like a stuffed hedgehog on a spike, with a lit candle sticking out of its mouth.

Suddenly, Harry was able to hear voices. Two of which he instantly recognised; Persephone's region-less accent, and Alex's strong West Yorkshire inflections. The third was male, oily and oddly familiar to Harry. He leant more closely to an open doorway from where the direction of the voices heralded from, and was able to make out the figures of Alex, Persephone and Mr. Borgin in the back storeroom.

"Look, I'll need a few more days to look at it properly... it's a very unusual book..."

"I'm not a patient woman, Mr. Borgin. Personally, I think leaving it with you for any length of time would be too long," Persephone retorted, staring down Mr. Borgin, who was doing his best to maintain a fa ade of sycophancy.

"Of course, Professor, but you see, this is the first copy of this book I've ever known to exist, much less hold in my hands," he replied.

Alex, who was currently looking around at a nearby shelf that Harry couldn't see clearly, suddenly turned around and grabbed Mr. Borgin by the collar.

"Course, and I'm the Queen of bloody Sheba," she hissed, pulling him down to reach her height. Persephone looked at her.

"He's on the level, Alex- I took it into the bloke that runs Flourish and Blotts- he was at a loss as to what it was," Persephone reasoned, and Alex let go of Mr. Borgin's shirt. He brushed himself down.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Borgin," Alex explained, aggressively, "but I haven't had a fag in one hundred and two hours and I'm feeling rather tetchy."

"A fag?" Mr. Borgin asked, clearly confused. Alex just rolled her eyes in contempt. Mr. Borgin started disparagingly at her.

"Oh, I see, you're a Muggle-born. Of course, I should have guessed..." He trailed off as he saw Alex draw a hefty looking sword from a scabbard tucked beneath her robes. She held it in her hand as though inspecting the blade.

"You got a problem with that?" she goaded. Mr. Borgin went a strange shade of white.

"No... No, not at all," he stammered, and Alex placed her sword back in its scabbard with a smile.

Persephone pulled a chair across and placed it in front of the man, gesturing for him to sit.

"I don't suppose now we can persuade you to tell us what you know about this book?" she asked.

"I told you- I've never seen a copy of it before..."

"But you know what it is, or what it might be," she countered, staring hard at him. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Alright, alright! Bloomin' Legilmens- you do know how rude that is, don't you?"

"Oddly enough, I don't care a great deal," she retorted, coolly. Mr. Borgin sighed, and handed Persephone the book.

"Well, I'll tell you this much," he said, conspiratorially, "you've currently got in your hands something very rare, very valuable, and very illegal."

"Go on," Persephone encouraged.

"I think it might date back to the Seventh Century- if you look at the cover, it's been hand-painted, and all the pages are hand-written in what appears to be lampblack and glue- one of the very first inks to ever be used. It looks like it's written in Latin, but no form that I can understand. Some of the chapter titles- I can make those out. References to the true nature of sacrifice, the path of vengeance, the quest for immortality- all very dark magics... I would be willing to buy it off you for a very competitive price..."

"Forget it; it's not for sale," Persephone interjected. Mr. Borgin raised an eyebrow at her.

"Interested in these practices, then?" he asked.

"It has sentimental value," Persephone retorted.

"Oh," Mr. Borgin chuckled. "So, your name is Florence, then?"

Persephone looked at him with distaste.

"What are you on about?" she asked. Mr. Borgin tapped the cover of the book.

"The inscription on the front page- _'To Florence, I hope you are able to make good use of this- it's an excellent, if mightily difficult, read. I wouldn't recommend attempting any of the spells, save for the one on page ninety-seven, which no doubt will keep you warm on those cold, Slavic nights- Severus'_. Sounds fascinating," he remarked.

"A friend bought it me from a second-hand bookshop in Muggle St. Petersburg," Persephone replied, swiftly. Mr. Borgin seemed to buy her story.

"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Borgin," Persephone said, handing over a small wad of Galleons, which Mr. Borgin accepted graciously.

"Thank you for an interesting hour's reading," he replied, bowing to her.

Harry heard the three of them walk towards the door, and moved quickly over to Ron, who was now busy examining a set of talismans that, according to the sign above them, would ward off the Evil Eye of your enemies.

"Harry, Ron- what are you two doing here?" Persephone asked, as she emerged from the doorway.

"Erm, looking for you," Harry replied, tapping his watch. "We were supposed to meet in the Leaky Cauldron."

Persephone looked at her watch.

"Yeah, in four minutes time. The Leaky Cauldron is about three minutes away," she replied. Harry felt himself go a little red. Persephone smiled at him.

"You're skilled in many things, Harry. Sadly, lying isn't one of them," she teased.

"I'm sorry..."

"It's okay- I know what nosey beggars you three... where's Hermione?" she asked, suddenly.

"Waiting at the Leaky Cauldron. Her, Ginny, Viktor and Tonks went to get some money from Gringotts," Harry replied. Persephone put a firm hand on his and Ron's shoulders.

"Well, we oughtn't keep them waiting then," she said, leading them out of the shop, followed by a smirking Alex.

"You went _where?_" Tonks asked, incredulously, as she, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Viktor, Alex and Persephone sat at a table near the window of the Leaky Cauldron, nursing a variety of beverages.

"You do know that Knockturn Alley has a very bad reputation," Hermione scolded. "What _were_ you two thinking?"

"I don't think they really were," Persephone joked. "Still, be of good cheer, Hermione, because I'm getting closer to finding out about that book of yours. Old Borgin gave me a few leads I'll chase up for you."

"Why can't I just have it now?" Hermione asked, slightly petulantly.

"Because, I want to make sure it isn't dangerous. Seeing as it's so highly illegal, I certainly won't allow you to take it to school," Persephone said, and Harry saw Hermione's shoulders visibly droop.

"But," she whispered conspiratorially to the bushy haired girl, "if you happen to stumble across it in your room at Grimmauld Place, who's to know?" she asked, rhetorically, tapping the side of her nose with her finger as she did so. Hermione flashed a grateful smile at her in return.

"So, I see dodgy reputations are okay for books, but not streets. Hermione, you really do have a flexible rule system," Ron chided. Hermione flushed pink.

"Only when it comes to academia," she replied.

Harry lifted up his gift-wrapped present and placed in on the table.

"Happy birthday, Persephone- sorry it's been a little late," he said. Persephone grinned at him.

"Oh, thank you, Harry! That's so sweet- you know I was joking about you having to buy me..."

"Just shut up and open it, Perce," Alex interrupted, languidly. Persephone did as she was told, and gleefully unwrapped the decorative paper as though she was ten years old again. She thumped out a brief drum roll with her hands on the table, before giving Harry a 'thumbs up'.

"Wow, this is ace! Cheers, Harry- it'll definitely keep me occupied during the train journey. I reckon Severus' got to be a dab hand at this sort of game," she babbled, opening the box up and examining all the pieces with interest.

Harry's curiosity was fuelled by this remark.

"Train journey? Snape?" he asked, hoping the three words conveyed exactly what he was confused about. Persephone put the carved black queen down carefully next to the white King and looked across at him.

"Yeah, your train to Hogwarts, remember?"

"Yeah, but what are you doing on it?" he countered.

"Security," Persephone replied, simply. "Albus asked me to do it. I just have to sit in the teachers' carriage and sort out any trouble, if it occurs. He also suggested Severus came with me, though I'm not entirely sure that's for your protection."

Harry must have looked confused by this last statement, for Persephone sniggered.

"I'll tell you something about old Albus- he likes to meddle in other people's affairs- especially Severus', I suspect. The whole thing smacks of 'lets make the father and daughter spend some quality time together'. If, of course, you equate quality time to being on a train with a bunch of overly-excited kids with the risk of attack looming in the air," she added.

Harry nodded in understanding.

"So," Hermione asked, quietly, "are you going back to the Headquarters before heading off to King's Cross tomorrow?"

Persephone shook her head.

"Severus and I are staying here for the night. Tell you the truth, I don't think he's too thrilled with the prospect," she replied.

Alex rested her chin on her hand and grinned at Persephone.

"You've had quite a good haul this year, haven't you?" she commented. Persephone nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah! Viktor here got me those brooms," she explained, winking at Viktor Krum, who rolled his eyes in mock derision. Persephone continued, "Augustine got me a new set of dress robes- said he was fed up with me wandering around the place like a 'pauper's scullery maid,' or something. Sam, bless him, decided it was about time I invested in a proper dental-care charm kit- reckons the sooner the better, seeing as Severus is only fifteen years older than me..." She trailed off suddenly.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked. Persephone sighed.

"Faith," she replied. "She still doesn't exactly relish the prospect of spending any time near me. I suppose it's understandable- I mean, she thinks Severus is the spawn of Satan, so that would make me Satan's Granddaughter, right?"

Harry couldn't help but feel sympathetic, for the look on Persephone's face was one of definite melancholy. It seems a real shame that a friendship that had survived Azkaban- indeed, resulted in Faith being rescued from Azkaban before she lost her soul, if not her mind- couldn't survive Persephone's fifty percent share in Snape's blood.

Alex patted her gently on the arm.

"Cheer up, Perce, she's getting better. I mean, for the past month she hasn't made one attempt on your life," she replied, by way of comfort. Persephone managed a weary smile.

"I suppose she no longer tries to pour cold porridge over my head to stop aliens from invading my mind, too... I really miss that, actually," she replied, sadly, taking a gulp from her tankard of scrumpy. Harry managed to feel both touched by Persephone's love for her friend, and confused as to why she could possibly miss having cold porridge poured over her head, but his musings were halted by Ron's sudden outburst.

"So," he asked, suddenly, "did old Snape get you anything?"

Alex and Persephone exchanged concerned glances.

"As a matter of fact, he did," Persephone replied, uncertainly.

"What was it?" he asked, after gulping down half of his tankard of Butterbeer. "From the looks on your faces, it was either a scary present, or a rubbish one," he added. Persephone flashed Ron a lop-sided smile, before reaching under her robes and placing a gleaming ornate silver sword on the table in front of them.

Harry gawped, then looked across at Ron, and saw he was wearing a similar facial expression. Tonks also looked impressed.

"Wow," she gasped, "that's a beast of a sword!"

"Yeah!" Harry had to agree. Hermione, however, was examining it carefully, although she had not picked the sword up from the table.

"It looks... clean, somehow," she said, dreamily. Persephone smiled grimly.

"It's as clean as you can get- it's blessed," she explained. Tonks raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't they about the rarest weapon ever?" she asked. Persephone nodded.

"And didn't you say in our Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson that you had gone to Sri Lanka in search for one?" Hermione piped up. Persephone did a double take.

"You've got a good memory, Hermione," she commented.

"He went to a lot of trouble for your birthday present, then?" Tonks half asked, half stated. Persephone nodded.

"I think it's his way of making up for missing the last eighteen," she replied, "not that I can really blame him- he did think I was dead."

"Well, that's nice!" Hermione exclaimed, though she looked slightly fearful. Then she looked up at Persephone's frowning face and added, "Isn't it?"

Persephone frowned again.

"I don't know how to take it really. It's nice and all, but I think it might be too much, too soon. Or too little, too late- I'm really not sure."

Harry reached over and gently patted Persephone's hand. She smiled at him, and gripped his hand in hers.

"Really, Harry, there's no need to worry. I'm fine, it's just... it's a period of adjustment, for both of us. And it's a bloody huge adjustment," she laughed. Viktor peered at her from beneath his bushy unibrow.

"It vill be fine- these things do take time, after all, and Professor Snape is not the easiest of people to talk vith, I haff found," he added. Harry was sure he heard Alex snort, but he decided not to draw attention to the fact.

It was around this point that Harry noticed Viktor put his arm lazily around Hermione, and that she did not complain. He also noticed Ron grip his tankard of Butterbeer so hard, that his knuckles began to turn white. Not knowing exactly where he should look, he glanced across at Ginny, who was quietly giggling into her Butterbeer. He swiftly moved his gaze towards Alex, who was drumming her fingers noisily on the table, and eyeing an old wizard sitting at the bar smoking a pipe enviously.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Al, chew on a liquorice stick or something," Persephone chided, grabbing Alex's hands to stop her from drumming her fingers any longer. Alex exhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry, Perce, but it's just so difficult! Everything I look at makes me think about the nicotine that currently isn't in my bloodstream," she replied, anxiously. Persephone looked confused.

"How can looking at something remind you of a chemical?" she asked. Alex laughed harshly.

"I don't need an actual connection," she replied, "I've got it on the brain- it's mad!"

"I don't know- it's taken you long enough to give it a go. Six years, I've been on at you to give up- it's a wonder you've actually listened to me!" Persephone chided. Alex stated at her glass tumbler.

"Yeah," she replied, absently, though Harry thought she looked a little embarrassed.

"You need a distraction," Persephone pointed out. Tonks grinned.

"I don't know- you seemed pretty distracted when Percy was chatting about her old man," she replied, in a cheeky manner that Harry didn't understand. Alex glared at her disdainfully.

"Meaning?" she asked.

"Meaning nothing," Tonks replied, "except that you do have a bit of a history with Snape, the merciful Death Eater, am I right?"

Alex swirled her Firewhiskey glass in her hand, and the ice-cubes clinked together and sloshed against the amber liquid.

"Yeah, we have a history. You know the thing about history, Tonks?" she asked. Tonks shrugged her shoulders, waiting for a reply. Alex downed the contents of her glass in one and grimaced.

"It's in the past," she finished, and made clear the subject was not open for discussion.

"So," Persephone interjected, clapping her hands, "are you lot all looking forward to going back to school?"

Harry and Ron grimaced almost as sharply as Alex had on downing her Firewhiskey.

"Not bloody likely," Ron grumbled, "we've got our N.E.W.T.s this year!"

Tonks smiled, and leant back a little in her seat.

"Oh yes, I remember those- dark times, Ron, dark times," she replied, jokingly. Ron grimaced and stared at the table.

"That's not comforting, Tonks," he replied. Persephone laughed.

"They aren't that bad- if you were doing all right last year, then you should get through it fine. Providing, of course, that you keep your heads above water, work wise," she replied. Harry looked across at Alex, who noticed.

"Don't look at me, kiddo," she replied, "I took my N.E.W.T.s around fifteen years ago. Can hardly remember how I felt."

Hermione was stirring her drink with a cocktail stick adorned with a glacier cherry.

"Oh, I'm so nervous about this year! I mean, our N.E.W.T.s are so important- even more important than our O.W.L.s!" she babbled, nervously, until Viktor rested his hand on hers.

"Vith your brains, you vill have nothing to vorry about," he said, admiringly. Harry tried his best to ignore the surreptitious retching noises Ron was making across the table, and the way Hermione glared at Ron whilst he performed this activity. Viktor seemed pretty oblivious to his behaviour, or at least, was pretending to be.

"Oi, Harry," Persephone said, "fancy christening the new chess board?"

"Huh?" Harry replied, confused by her words. She grinned and rolled her eyes in mock vexation.

"Do you fancy a game?" she asked.

"Okay," he replied, and she set up the board ready.

Harry found her a challenging opponent, though not as challenging as Ron, but that might have been because Alex had taken an interest in their game, and kept whispering hints to him.

"Here, Harry- take a look at her Knight; look at what it's protecting..."

"Alex, I can do this myself," he replied, somewhat hotly. Alex wasn't fazed in the slightest.

"I'm sure you could," she replied, "but I need the distraction- let me help you out," she pleaded. Harry noticed the way she was chewing on the swizzle stick she had filched from Hermione's drink, and nodded his consent. Soon enough, Ginny was trying to help Persephone out.

"Well, you have an unfair advantage at the moment, Harry," she had said, by way of an explanation, and the game had swiftly turned into a doubles match, if such a thing was possible. Tonks, Ron, Hermione and Viktor were soon engrossed in the game, until they were interrupted by a looming figure, cloaked in black robes.

"Persephone, Alexandra, Nymphadora," Snape announced, sharply, and Harry noticed Tonks grit her teeth momentarily.

"Severus?" Alex returned the acknowledgement with a questioning tone of voice.

"We have business to attend to," he said, curtly, and gestured for them to follow him. Persephone nodded.

"Have you got our room key?" she asked. Snape pulled a large brass key attached to a length of string from his robes and dangled it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Right, let's go there, then- room eight has a fireplace, I believe," she said, quietly. Tonks nodded, and got out of her seat, followed by Persephone, then Alex, whom Snape made a conscious effort to let past. She accepted this gesture in an uncomfortable manner.

Persephone leant over the table to speak to Viktor.

"Keep an eye on them, will you, Viktor?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Of course I vill," he replied, in a gruff tone that Harry knew to be his neutral voice.

"Yeah, well you've had plenty of practice keeping your eyes on Hermione," Ron grumbled, under his breath. Persephone seemed not to notice this, and instead clapped Viktor on the shoulder.

"Good man," she replied, before the two members of the Order and the two members of the Brethren walked towards the staircase, where Harry could no longer see them.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked, surreptitiously.

"I think it's just a routine briefing," Ginny replied. Everyone turned to stare at her.

"What?" she retorted, defensively.

"How do you know?" Ron enquired. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I just happen to pay attention to those code words that Mum thinks we know nothing about!" she replied.

Harry glanced at his watch, and felt his chest tighten. In less than twenty-four hours, they would all be on the Hogwarts Express on their way to their last ever school year- well, penultimate school year, in Ginny's case. He wondered what it would be like, now that things really had been set in motion- the attack on the Grangers had seen to that. He somehow doubted that there would be any term-time trips to Hogsmeade, though that was the least of his worries.

_"As long as Dumbledore's around, I'm not worried."_ Hagrid's words flooded Harry's mind, and he felt himself relax a little. Things would be okay. He would get through his N.E.W.T.s, he wouldn't have to face Voldemort- for he never dared to attack the school during the last war, when Dumbledore was headmaster- and he even had family at Hogwarts too, in the shape of Persephone Beauchamp.

True, he'd still have to face Snape's Potions classes, but in the grand scheme of things, he reckoned he could cope.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: The Beginning of the End

"Ron, have you got your badge?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Ginny, have you packed your schoolbooks?"

"Yes, Mum- and my clothes, and my toothbrush, and my broom, and..."

"Alright, alright, I get the message," Mrs. Weasley clucked, bustling around the youngest two of her brood, and checking they were fully prepared for a trip they make every year. Harry couldn't recall a single incident where she had ended up owling something that Ron or Ginny had forgotten, and he didn't think that was likely to change this year.

Hermione was sitting on her trunk outside the room she shared with Ginny, looking a little pensive. Harry sat down next to her.

"Knut for your thoughts?" he asked. Hermione smiled.

"I was just remembering how Mum used to fuss," she replied, simply, and Harry understood.

"They're safe, just remember that," he replied, placing his hand on hers. She looked up at him and smiled sadly.

"I know, and I'm grateful. I wonder what they're up to?" she mused, and Harry thought he saw a tear trickle down her face. With some instinct he hadn't known he possessed before, he drew himself close enough to Hermione that their knees knocked together, and put his arm tightly around her. She flopped her head onto his shoulder and sighed.

"What a mess," she whispered into the crook of his arm.

"It's going to get messier," Harry replied, quietly. Hermione tilted her head up to look at his face.

"We'll be okay," she replied, and Harry wished he could share her optimism.

A sudden bang made Harry jump, and knock Hermione's jaw hard enough for her to wince. Ron stood in front of them, with an odd expression on his face.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, flicking between Hermione and Harry. Once he spotted Hermione's cheerless expression, he knelt down beside her in a flash.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Hermione nodded, and wiped her eye with her robe sleeve.

"I'm fine, Ron," she replied. Ron patted her awkwardly on the back.

"That's good," he replied, before getting up to his feet.

"Mum says we need to get down there. The car has arrived," he explained. Harry grinned.

"No problem," he replied, pulling his Apparition licence out from his robe pocket. Ron grinned.

"It's the ace-est thing in the world, isn't it?"

Hermione stood up and folded her arms in mock irritation.

"Well, it's alright for you two," she huffed. Ron laughed.

"Cheer up, Hermione- you'll get to take your test in the Christmas holidays," he replied.

"It's just not fair," she said.

"Well, when you get to our age, you'll see life just sometimes isn't fair- you're too young to understand now," Ron joked, and Hermione gave him a waspish glare, though Harry could see her lips struggling to hide a smile. Ron feigned capitulation, and conjured her trunk down the stairs to make up for his teasing. Hermione walked on after him. Harry just couldn't resist, and instead Apparated to the front door.

He was greeted to the ear-splitting sound of Mrs. Weasley screaming in fright when he got downstairs.

"Oh, Harry, dear- you frightened the life out of me!" she exclaimed, patting her hand to her chest.

"Half breeds! Filthy Mudblood scum besmirching the house of my Fathers!" came the expected maniacal call-to-arms. Mrs. Weasley winced.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, trying his best to ignore the shrill voice of Mrs. Black's portrait.

"It's alright- I'll sort it out when I get back from the Station," she replied, opening the front door as she did so to allow Ginny to haul her trunk out into the street.

Suddenly, Ginny stopped dead in the street, and put her hand to her forehead as she peered out in front of her.

"Cool!" she breathed. Harry was about to follow her outside to see what had impressed her so much, when he heard Ron and Hermione descend the staircase; the former conjuring two trunks down the stairs with considerable effort.

"Thanks, Ron- I must say, it's such an easier job with magic," Hermione said, as she walked down the stairs.

"Easy for you to say," Ron retorted, as he struggled to control the two trunks.

"If it's a problem, I can always carry mine..."

"It's no problem!" Ron replied, quickly, as he lurched down the stairs.

The three of them collectively gasped when they got outside and saw what Ginny had been awestruck over. It was a very impressive looking big black car, complete with tinted windows and a small flag on the bonnet that suggested it was Ministry owned.

Mrs. Weasley, Harry noticed, couldn't suppress her smile.

"It's nice, isn't it," she remarked, cheerfully. "Your dad arranged the car for us; now, come and put your trunks in the boot."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny did as they were told. All of their trunks fitted without any difficulty- in fact, there was room to spare, which Harry assumed to be one of many advantages of having magically enhanced Ministry transport. They then got into the back of the car, Harry carrying Hedwig in her cage, Ron with Pigwidgeon, and Hermione with her hissing plastic cat case that presumably contained an rather irritated Crookshanks.

"Shush, Crookshanks, it'll be over soon," Hermione soothed at the caged door.

Mrs. Weasley got in the front seat, and it was then that Harry noticed the driver. He was bald, with a distinctive gold earring, and Harry recognised him immediately.

"Kingsley!" he exclaimed, then felt foolish for doing so. The Auror craned his neck, and gave Harry a smile.

"Hello, Harry," he replied, as he slipped his sunglasses on over his eyes.

"Why are you driving us?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, shouldn't you be off capturing Death Eaters, or something?" Ron asked, in such an upfront way that Shacklebolt laughed heartily. Hermione gave Ron a disapproving look, before adding, "I must admit, I would have thought the Order would want you doing something more... well..." She trailed off. Shacklebolt raised an eyebrow.

"Important? Believe me- escorting The Boy Who Lived and the Minister for Magic's children, not to mention the survivor of a recent Death Eater attack, ranks as pretty important work," he replied. Mrs. Weasley glared at him.

"Kingsley!" she hissed, "Do be gentle around the girl..."

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied, "I've got to get used to it sooner or later."

Shacklebolt smiled sympathetically.

"So, you saw the _Prophet_ yesterday?" he asked. Hermione looked confused. Harry had to admit he was at a loss as to why Shacklebolt had asked this, as well. He noticed Mrs. Weasley smack Shacklebolt hard on the arm, and give him a dangerous look. Shacklebolt turned to face her.

"Molly, are you ready?" he asked. Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"Yes... are you sure you know how to drive this?" she asked, nervously. Shacklebolt laughed richly.

"Sure, in theory," he replied, as he pressed his foot to the accelerator and drove off, grinning mischievously at Mrs. Weasley's horrified expression.

"Of _course_ I've driven this vehicle before," he explained, and Mrs. Weasley breathed a sigh of relief.

They sped through queues of traffic, squeezed through at least seventeen gaps that were significantly smaller than their vehicle and jumped around ten red lights without so much as hearing an irate fellow motorist beep their horn in frustration before they reached Kings Cross station. Shacklebolt pulled up beside a group of men dressed as station guards, and wound down his window.

"Sort the trunks out, would you, lads?" he asked, at which the nearest station guard nodded and clicked his fingers. The rest of the guards opened the boot and began to load their trunks onto trolleys. Harry noticed they all had wands sticking out of their coat pockets.

"Undercover security," Shacklebolt explained, noticing Harry's expression. Harry nodded in reply, before they all piled out of the car, carrying their various caged pets.

"Right, this way, everyone!" Mrs. Weasley instructed, leading Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the guards towards platform nine and three quarters.

"Have a good term," Shacklebolt said through the open car window, before winding it shut again and driving off.

"Come along, now," Mrs. Weasley said, chivvying the group of four across the bridge overlooking the railway track and onto platform nine. When they reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten that would take them to the Hogwarts Express, Harry couldn't help but notice a huge sign on it that currently read 'STOP'.

"What's that for?" Ginny asked.

"It's to reduce the amount of people trying to get through the barrier at one time," Mrs. Weasley explained. "They've got new security measures, so things will take a little longer than usual..."

"But surely the Muggles will think something's up, with that huge sign staring them in the face!" Ron pointed out.

"The sign's charmed, Mr. Weasley," one of the guards piped up. "No-one can see it, except for wizards and witches."

Ron nodded to show his understanding, and the red sign spun within the brickwork, and showed up a few seconds later as a huge green sign with the words 'PROCEED' printed on it.

Looking around, Harry checked nobody was watching him, before he leant casually into the barrier, and soon found himself on platform nine and three quarters. A wizard dressed in regulation navy-blue robes casually looked him over, and pointed his wand at his head, then his torso.

"Arms," he ordered, and Harry lifted up his arms. The wizard swiped his wand over Harry's outstretched arms, and down his legs, before jerking his thumb towards the train.

"Proceed," he said, gruffly, and Harry waited further along the platform for Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. Clutching Hedwig's cage while the snowy owl slumbered peacefully, he saw one guard examine their luggage by waving his wand across the top and bottom. The guard then handed the trolley of trunks back to Mrs. Weasley once he appeared satisfied they didn't contain weapons, poisons or smuggled in Death Eaters. He couldn't help but snigger when he saw one of the wizard guards examine Hermione, and almost jump out of his skin when her cat carrier emitted a loud, angry hissing noise. He also noticed the guards exchange glances, and then look at Hermione with what Harry could only interpret as sympathy as she walked towards him.

"Harry, Ron and I have got to go to the prefect carriage for a chat with the new prefects- it said in our letters. It shouldn't take too long- you will save us both a seat, won't you?" she asked. Harry nodded.

"Sure," he replied, as Ron and Ginny joined them, pushing the trolley between them.

"Right, here we go," Ron said, dragging Hermione's trunk off the trolley and placing it at her feet, before grabbing his own. Harry and Ginny both took their trunks, and Harry noticed Ginny trying desperately to suppress a grin.

Mrs. Weasley came up to them, and gave them all a huge hug.

"Now, you four take good care of yourselves, and don't forget to work hard- you've got your N.E.W.T.s this year, and I can't stress how important they are, so do your best," she said, and then hugged them all again. When she hugged Harry, he felt as though she had almost squeezed the air out of him, so strong was her grip. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two familiar figures walk along the platform. They were both tall and thin, with dark hair- Harry recognised them as Persephone and Snape once he saw the latter's profile. He watched as Persephone said something to Snape, and he climbed into the carriage just behind them. She made her way over to where he, Hermione and the two youngest Weasley's were currently saying their goodbyes to Mrs. Weasley.

"Hi, folks," she offered, breezily, just as Mrs. Weasley had let Harry go.

"Hi, Professor," they chorused, at which she laughed.

"Well done, glad I don't need to remind you," she joked, before placing a hand gently on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder.

"It's okay, Molly, Severus and I have checked over the train- there's nothing untoward going on," she said. Mrs. Weasley smiled.

"Thanks for letting me know, Persephone. How are you doing?" she asked, pointedly, and Harry assumed her question was related to Persephone and Snape.

"Fine, we're fine," she replied, somewhat dismissively, and Mrs. Weasley dropped the subject.

"I'll most likely pop along and see you on the train- we're supposed to do routine check on all the pupils every fifteen minutes, and somehow I feel I'm going to get saddled with the job," she said, with mock weariness. Harry couldn't help but smile- he doubted Snape would happily traipse up and down the train, unless there was a chance he could apprehend someone for some misdemeanour or another- even more so if it was Harry he got to castigate.

"Cheer up, Harry- at least you won't have to explain to Severus why you're sitting in a carriage looking like you're up to no good," she teased, patting him on the back. He pulled a face in return, at which Persephone cracked up laughing.

"You cynic, you!" she replied, before stepping purposely out of Mrs. Weasley's earshot and towards Hermione.

"Did you get a chance to read the Daily Prophet yesterday?" she asked, having sidled over to Hermione, who shook her head.

"No, I didn't. I figured I'd just catch up on today's issue instead..." She trailed off as Persephone pulled a rolled-up newspaper from her robe pocket and surreptitiously hand it to Hermione.

"I'd read it as soon as possible, if I were you," she advised, gravely, before raising her voice to a normal level.

"Right, see you all later, chaps and chapesses!" she said, cheerily, before walking across to the carriage Snape had previously entered, and climbed into it herself.

After one last goodbye from Mrs. Weasley, Harry made his way onto the train, followed by Ginny, Ron and Hermione. They had just about hauled their trunks into the luggage compartment before they heard a whistle blow, and the train lurched into its rhythmic movement.

Ginny held out her hands expectantly, and Ron handed her Pigwidgeon in his cage.

"Thanks Ginny," he said.

"Hermione, do you want me to take Crookshanks with me?" she asked. Hermione nodded, and carefully handed her plastic cat carrier to Ginny, who took it by the handle. The carrier hissed and rattled a bit.

"Shush, Crookshanks, she'll be back in a bit!" Ginny said to the front of the cage. Crookshanks calmed down a bit, but Harry saw from the brief glimpse he got of its squashed up face that it was not a particularly impressed feline.

"See you in a bit," Ron said, as he and Hermione made their way to the front carriage, and Harry and Ginny were left with the task of finding seats.

"Hmm, nope, don't like this one," Ginny said, sniffily, as she closed a carriage door, and walked towards the next one. Harry sighed heavily, but continued to follow her. Surely one carriage was the same as another? He could understand Ginny not wanting to share a carriage with Draco and his cronies, but dismissing a carriage out of hand because it had a piece of chewing gum stuck to one of the seats, or because the sun filtered in through the windows? That smacked just a little bit of pickiness, and he wondered if Mr. Weasely's sudden promotion to Minister for Magic was in any way responsible.

Fortunately, Ginny did eventually find an empty carriage that was to her liking, and sat down, gesturing for Harry to sit opposite, which he did so. He noticed Ginny kneel on her seat to reach the curtains and draw the ones on her side halfway across the window nearest her.

"Sorry about the pickiness," she explained, "but I was hoping to get a bit of kip before Ron and Hermione get back. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Why?" Harry asked, feeling guilty for thinking that her parents' success might have spoilt Ginny, if only briefly. Ginny yawned, and stretched her arm out above her head.

"Chatting to Hermione," she replied, "she seems to need less sleep than I do. Plus, she's a bit nervous about taking..." She trailed off, as though seeing Harry for the first time.

"It's not important," she added, quickly, before patting the seat cushion nearest her head.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, presumably referring to her attempt to catch forty winks. Harry shook his head.

"No, go ahead," he replied. Ginny smiled, and curled up on the seat. Harry watched her as she quietly fell into a serene snooze.

Secretly, Harry was quite glad Ginny wanted to sleep. It was true he now had nobody to talk to on the train until Ron and Hermione got back from their briefing, but it gave him a chance to catch up on a bit of reading. He reached deep into his inside jacket pocket, and pulled out a slim red book, before taking off said jacket and stuffing it into the hand-luggage compartment above his head. The book was well thumbed, and dated back to 1975. It was penned entirely by his mother.

_'21/08/1975_

_Well, today has been fun. When I say fun, of course, I mean if your idea of fun is feeling eight months pregnant without being able to see your horrendously huge stomach, and screaming at people that they disgust you. It's not mine, I'll tell you that for nothing._

_I'm at the Beauchamp's cottage in Southern France again. It's around midnight, I've got stomachache, backache, and my ankles are killing me. Porphyria's given me a pain-killing potion of some description, and told me to rest up. About half an hour ago, she brought me a hot water bottle for my back, and said if I needed anything else, I should just wake her. She looks perpetually anxious, and I'm not sure whether it's for the health of me, the health of the baby, or the success of her plan. I only realised a few months ago that the idea of me giving birth to this child, then handing it over to the Beauchamps, is slightly on the illegal side- according to wizarding law, unwanted babies are supposed to go through a care program, where they are housed with the best available parents. What we're doing bypasses all of that, and the Beauchamps could get into serious trouble for it (me and Severus are minors, so we would get off scot free i_f_the whole plan was discovered). Now I understand why we're going to the Slavic regions to give birth- lower age of consent, my backside! Porphyria and Severus have family up there, a few of which are qualified midwives (I'm not sure what the wizard equivalent is- I think it might be 'birth receivers', or something, although that sounds very odd), and they're going to aid me through labour, then doctor the baby's birth certificate, so it appears that the child is theirs. From that point on, I will bear no relation to the child, legally._

_And I'm really not sure how I feel about that. See, a few months ago, she started kicking. Just a little bit at first, but she's strong, I can tell that much. I know it sound silly, but she's kind of got a personality now. She's a little toughie. I can picture her at Hogwarts- I don't really know what she's going to look like (personally, I hope she looks more like me than Severus!), but I can just imagine her knocking James and Sirius down a peg or two- she definitely wouldn't stand for their nonsense! Apparently, she's going to be really magical. Francois rested his wand against my stomach the other evening, and it started whooshing great green sparks everywhere. He reckons if you get that kind of reaction before birth, your child's likely to be really magically adept- he's been reading far too many wizarding parent magazines, though he tries to hide the fact._

_Me and Severus had a row today. Again. That's all we seem to do nowadays... We're not going out! God, no- please, don't think that! It's just; we've been trying to get on, for the baby's sake. I know we won't be looking after her, but if we both want to visit her, we figured it would be better for her if we were friends, or at least civil._

_The problem is, I really hate him. I can't describe it- he makes my skin crawl in the most unnatural way. I can hardly bear to be around him, he just disgusts me! The thing is, it's pretty irrational- he's perfectly nice to me, he's been brewing this potion for me (which he would most certainly get expelled for if he was caught) and he's trying to be supportive. But I just want him out of my life. So, we keep arguing, and then Porphyria ends up arguing with the both of us, because she's worried that if I get stressed out, it'll be harmful to the baby. Maybe this is the problem- everyone's so intent on making sure this baby's okay, that what I want seems to be a moot issue._

_Anyway, Severus did possibly the worst thing he could do today. I was sitting outside, doing some of the recommended reading for next term, when he brought me a drink and sat next to me._

_"How's the reading going?" he asked me, casually. I replied that it was going fine, and hoped he'd leave me alone. Except he kept pressing the matter, and trying to make small talk. Severus is notoriously bad at small talk._

_"Divination? I didn't know you were taking that for your O.W.L.s," he remarked. I put my book down, and glared at him._

_"There's a lot you don't know about me," I snapped back. He shrugged._

_"I'm only trying to make conversation," he replied._

_"There's no need," I replied, swiftly, trying very hard not to lose my patience. Severus didn't appear to be paying much attention._

_"I never really liked Divination; I don't like the idea that we have no free will- I like to think I choose my own path," he mused. I know I shouldn't have said it, but I didn't bite it back quick enough._

_"Well, you've done a great job so far," I spat, angrily. He glared at me._

_"Meaning?"_

_"What do you think?" I shouted, hotly. "You only turned fifteen three months ago, and you're going to be a father- how's that something to be proud of?"_

_He was dumbstruck for a moment, and then finally replied, "I wasn't the only person responsible for that."_

_"You were the only one responsible that had all of their faculties intact!" I shouted back. I could feel myself shaking. Severus was staring at me in that horribly cloying way he was prone to doing now and then. I knew what he was up to._

_"Stop that!" I ordered, but instead he glared at me furiously._

_"So, that's really what you think of me?" he replied, quietly. I think he was hurt, but somehow, this just made me hate him more._

_"Yes," I replied, standing up, "Yes. I hate you- I can't stand you, I wish I'd never, ever met you, and that I never had to lay eyes on you again- happy?" I yelled. He jumped to his feet, and looked paler than I'd ever known._

_"I... I..." He stammered for a full three minutes, and it only made me angrier._

_"Come on, spit it out!" I goaded, "truth hurts, doesn't it?"_

_Porphyria came running out towards us. For a moment, I thought she was waving a rolling pin, although that could have just been what I expected her to do._

_"What's going on?" she demanded._

_"Ask Severus," I spat, "he's the one that seems at a loss for words."_

_Severus stormed off._

_"What's the matter? Can't take the pressure?" I shouted after him. He turned around, and stared viciously at me._

_"I can't take the fact that I want to punch that stupid smirk off your face!" he yelled back, a really strange expression pulling at his features. I was stunned, so stunned, in fact, that I just sat down quietly. Severus ran off down the garden, and Porphyria looked fraught with worry._

_"I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't think it would..."_

_"Just go inside, Lily. I'll sort this out," she replied, swiftly, before running after Severus. I didn't understand any of it- was she mad at me? I wouldn't be surprised if she was- I was pretty mean to him. I wish I didn't feel how I do, but I can't help it. But then, how dare he say such a thing to me?_

_I couldn't help it. I'm nosey. I followed Porphyria down the garden to the stream that runs along the bottom. It's nice down there- sometimes, on the rare occasion me and Severus are actually getting along; we'll go down there and race paper boats. I rip up pieces of 'L'Oracle Quotidien' and charm them to fold into paper boats, whilst Severus works out the exact distance we should drop them into the stream to avoid catastrophic branch or rock obstructions. We then float them with our wands to the centre of the stream, and on the count of three, drop them into the water. We run along the bank, and whoever's boat passes the big cherry blossom tree first, wins. Damn, I'm good at that game!_

_I saw Porphyria sit next to Severus, who was sitting on the bridge that crossed the stream. He had his head resting in his hands, his feet over the edge of the bridge, and he looked incredibly glum. Porphyria put her arm gently around him, but he shrugged her off. I couldn't hear exactly what they were talking about, except that Porphyria asked him if he was okay, and he shook his head dumbly._

_"I can't believe I... I actually wanted to... Oh God, Porphyria, I'm turning into Dad!"_

_Porphyria hugged him, despite his obvious reservations._

_"Shhsh," she whispered into his hair, "you walked away, just remember that. You walked away rather than... You're worth ten of him, Severus, don't ever forget that."_

_I snuck off back to the cottage before either of them knew I was there- Severus has really been having difficulty controlling his newfound Legilmens skills (the other night, I was in my room, thinking about how much I fancied some fish and chips, and a few moments later, Porphyria called up to me, saying that Severus seems to think I'd want to eat something from the local fishmongers. I'm telling you, it's creepy!). I don't understand what they were talking about, but I can hazard a guess that whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant._

_Right, I'm going to stop writing now, because my stomachache has got worse. It's like I've got period pains, but they keep coming and going really quickly, around every minute or so..._

_Oh dear. I'd better go and wake Porphyria...'_

Harry was distracted by a yawn and a crumple of clothes.

"What are you reading, Harry?" Ginny asked, stretching her small frame elegantly across the carriage seat, before pulling herself up into a sitting position.

"Oh, nothing," Harry replied, quickly sliding the diary under his folded arms. Ginny looked curious, but said nothing.

Suddenly, Harry heard footsteps from behind him. He turned around, and Ron was walking up the carriage.

"We're back!" he announced, sliding cheerfully into a free seat next to Harry. "That was relatively painless, too."

Hermione wandered along after him, engrossed in a copy of the Daily Prophet, and looked perturbed by what she was reading.

"What's up?" Harry asked. Hermione's face darkened.

"Look at this," she said, angrily, thrusting her paper into Harry's hand, before slumping huffily into a seat next to Ginny. Harry read the headline, and blanched.

_Hogwarts' Head Girl Attacked!_

_On the 31__st__July, You-Know-Who's forces attacked the home of Hogwarts' new Head Girl, Miss Hermione Granger, a sixteen year-old Muggle-born witch. It is believed that the girl is safe and well, although it is unknown what has happened to the parents. They are believed to be dead, according to sources close to Ministry officials._

_Teachers at Hogwarts have declined to comment on the girl to our reporters, but her fellow students describe her as 'an annoyingly clever girl.' She has achieved twelve O.W.L.s, eleven of which were at 'O' standard, and is consistently top of her classes, as well as being firm friends with Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Ronald Weasley, son of the new Minister for Magic. She has also been romantically linked with Bulgarian Quidditch star Viktor Krum._

_The Minister for Magic has refused to elaborate on the situation, but has released a statement saying, "I am appalled at the treatment of this family, not only by the Death Eaters- who will be caught and punished, make no mistake- but also at the vile exploitation of Miss Granger's situation by the Daily Prophet. This is not some tawdry, sensationalism story- this is real life, and real human beings have been persecuted by V*******t's henchmen. This cannot, and will not continue. We will fight V*******t and his forces at every turn. We will never surrender."_

Beside the text was a moving photograph of Hermione with Viktor Krum outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. Presumably the photographer there for the Lytenbolt display event had inadvertently made himself a lot of money by snapping that chance photograph.

"That's the last time I forget to read my copy- who knows what'll turn up next!" she ranted, as she took her cat carrier from Ginny and hugged it on her lap. Harry heard a distinct mewing sound come from the case. Ron looked at her sympathetically.

"Well, at least everyone was nice about it in the meeting," he replied. Hermione looked thunderstruck.

"Oh yes, everyone was _so_ sympathetic! All I kept hearing was _'Are you okay, Hermione?'_, _'We heard what happened, oh it must be awful!'_, _'You're so brave for coming back to school- you show them you won't be beaten by this!'_ It's bad enough coping with the actual event- I think the constant sympathy will just about finish me off!" she sighed. Ginny patted her on the shoulder.

"They just mean well," she said. Hermione exhaled deeply.

"Oh, I know, and it's nice, really- but I just want to forget about it. I don't want to be treated like some kind of macabre celebrity!"

"Join the club," Harry retorted, sarcastically. Hermione flushed with embarrassment, and Harry instantly felt guilty for his outburst.

"Harry, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to upset you..."

"It's okay," he replied, "but you should seriously consider joining. At the moment, it's very exclusive- just me, Neville, Susan, and you."

"It'll get increasingly less exclusive the further into the year we go," she replied, darkly.

The door of the carriage opened, and Harry spotted Neville walking towards them.

"Hey, Neville," he said, by way of a greeting. Neville waved at the four of them, before sitting down next to Hermione.

"Hi, guys," he said, before turning to face Hermione.

"I'm really sorry," he said, with sincere affection, "I saw..."

"The Daily Prophet," Hermione finished. Neville nodded.

"That must've been tough," he replied. Hermione nodded.

"It doesn't help that it's splashed all over the paper, either," she said, tartly. Neville smiled weakly at her.

"Yeah- at least I missed out on that," he added. "Where were you at the time? Were you at Ron's, or something?"

Hermione sighed heavily.

"I was there with my parents. In the house," she replied, quietly. Neville gasped.

"Oh my God- how did you get out?" he asked, and Harry noticed he had gripped Hermione's hand as though it might drop off her wrist if he let go.

"I was rescued..." Hermione trailed off, clearly unsure how she could answer this question without explaining away Snape's appearance.

"The Brethren," Ginny replied, nonchalantly, and Neville seemed to accept this.

"I'm glad they're joined forces with the Ministry," he announced, "Gran says there have been fewer reported attacks this time around than last time."

They all nodded in agreement, but Harry noticed that Hermione looked rather upset. It appeared that Ginny had noticed too, for she soon said, "Can we change the subject, guys? This is all a bit depressing."

"Yeah, sure- sorry, Ginny," Neville replied, before asking Harry how he did on his Apparation test.

"I passed," Harry replied, flashing his pink licence card at Neville, who grinned.

"Congratulations!" he said, "but it's a pity they had to be pink, isn't it?"

They all laughed, except for Hermione. Ron put his arm around her and pinched her cheek gently between his fingers.

"Aww- is our little Hermione feeling all young and Apparation-free?" he teased. Hermione swatted his arm.

"Just because some of you are old enough to have taken the test doesn't mean you have the right to rub it in the face of those of us who aren't," she replied, with Ginny nodding enthusiastically. Neville looked at her incredulously.

"Aren't you seventeen yet, Hermione?" he asked. Hermione shook her head.

"Not for almost three weeks," she replied. Neville laughed.

"Wow, so you're the smartest _and_ the youngest girl in our year," he replied, with slight awe.

"Not to mention the ugliest," a familiar voice drawled, nastily. Harry looked up and saw Draco Malfoy glaring at them. What was most apparent, though, was that Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be seen.

"You've changed your tune," Ginny muttered, under her breath, though Draco evidently heard it, as his cheeks flushed momentarily.

"Shut your mouth, Weasley!"

Ron stood up.

"Don't you talk to my sister like that, Malfoy!" he snarled. Malfoy glared back at him.

"I'll do what I like!" he retorted, before glancing disparagingly at Hermione.

"I saw the report in the _Prophet_," he said, breezily. "It was a good laugh." He looked her up and down critically. "I see you're still here- pity, I was hoping you'd go the same way as your parents..."

Harry and Neville both jumped up in anger at this remark. Hermione, however, stayed in her seat, and surveyed Draco calmly.

"Well, you were out of luck, weren't you?" she replied, with a slight smile. "It's beginning to become a habit, that. First your father goes on the run..."

"Yeah, well it appears he found the time to go and teach your lot a lesson!" Draco snapped back, before suddenly going very quiet. Harry saw that Neville was staring at Draco with a mixture of loathing and disgust.

"How can you even be proud of that?" he asked, clearly repulsed. Hermione merely inspected her fingernails for a moment.

"How can you even be stupid enough to infer it?" she added. "I'm assuming you realise just how many of the Ministry's officials are out looking for those Death Eaters. The article you were so pleased with made sure of it- they don't want the public to think for one minute that they're not doing their job..."

"You really think you're better than me, don't you, Granger," he laughed. Hermione smiled coldly at him.

"No, I know I am." She fingered her Head Girl badge for a moment, and then turned to Ron.

"Do you think we should deduct points from Slytherin for racial abuse now, or when we get to school?" she asked. Ron grinned maliciously at Draco.

"We could do both, you know," he added. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Do you really think I care about some stupid points?" he laughed, drawing his wand as he did so. "I'm much more interested in making you lot suffer, and seeing as if you used your wand against me, Granger, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery could land you in a spot of bother- the expulsion kind..."

"It might do for her," Ron said, drawing his wand.

"But not for us," Harry finished, pointing his wand right at Draco. He quickly noticed that Neville had done the same, and the three of them had circled Draco, who quickly made a grab for the slim red book on the table in front of where Harry had been sitting.

"Ooh, what's this, Potter?" Draco taunted, waving the book in front of Harry's face, but snatching it away every time Harry tried to grab it back.

"Give it back, Malfoy!" Harry spat, pointing his wand right between Draco's eyes.

Suddenly, a thin hand swept the book out of Draco's grip. Harry inwardly groaned when he saw whom the hand belonged to. Snape had clearly been badgered by Persephone to do a sweeping check on all the carriages, and was not too impressed by the whole affair, seeing as his facial expression was akin to that of a bulldog who has just chewed a mouthful of wasps.

"Sit down, put your wands away- now!" he barked, and after a few moments of shifty glances to make sure that Draco wasn't going to slip in a sneak attack, Harry, Ron and Neville sat down.

"Draco, go back to your carriage," Snape ordered.

"But, sir..."

"Do as I say, Draco," Snape said, quietly, and Draco obeyed almost instantaneously.

"Potter, come with me," Snape ordered, clicking his fingers. Harry glanced across at Ron, before reluctantly following Snape, in the hope that he might be able to retrieve his book from the greasy haired Potions Master.

They must have walked halfway along the entire train before Snape ushered Harry into a carriage compartment. A quick glace around, at which Harry saw Persephone pondering over a chess move, allowed him to presume this was the teachers' carriage. Snape shut the sliding door and turned to face him, his eyes gleaming with fury.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you were doing, leaving this lying around?" he demanded.

"I was reading it," Harry replied, evenly, but with enough humility in his voice to hope that Snape might give him his mother's diary back. Snape continued to glare at him.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous it would be for this to fall into anyone else's' hands? For all of us?" he barked, with such an increase in volume at the last four words, that Harry felt himself jump in shock. He knew he had to handle this carefully, if there was any chance of his retrieving his book. He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I'll be sure to lock it away in my trunk straight away," he replied, though it was a colossal effort to get those words out without gagging.

For a moment, Snape looked as though he had just been dealt a blow to the stomach. Then his shocked expression morphed into one of scepticism. He glanced briefly at Persephone, who shrugged, before glaring at Harry once more.

"You'd better," he snarled, and handed Harry the red leather diary.

"Now go!" he ordered, and Harry did as he was told before Snape could change his mind. When he closed the door to the teachers' carriage, he could have sworn he heard Snape grumble, "I _really_ dislike other people's children."

As he was walking back to his original carriage, it suddenly struck Harry that when Snape had ranted about the threat of the diary Harry currently held in his hands, and how its secrets would endanger them, he hadn't just mean himself and Persephone- he had meant Harry as well. What he didn't understand, though, was why.

By the time he got back to where Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville were sitting, another student had joined them. Neville had just lowered his wand away from the familiar girl, who looked oddly pleased at having had it pointed at her just moments ago.

"Thanks, Neville," Luna said, tucking her straggly blonde hair behind her ears. "It would have worn off eventually, but my legs were getting really tired." She sat down in the seat next to Ginny that Harry had previously occupied, so he gestured for the two year-six girls to budge up along the seat, and he sat down next to Luna.

"Hi, Luna, did you have a good holiday?" he asked. Luna's eyes lit up.

"Yes- me and Dad went to South Africa in search of the Hooplak bird- it looks like a garden sparrow, but it changes the colour of its plumage depending on its mood, so Dad got me to take photographs while he cast Cheering Charms around the forests," she explained, enthusiastically.

"But there's..." Hermione trailed off, then coughed. "Did you find any?"

Luna shook her head.

"We didn't, but I think that's because we went in August. Their breeding season is around May, and if we'd gone then, I bet we would have seen them all over the place, trying to secure a mate," she replied, before twiddling a section of her hair around her finger.

"I saw the Daily Prophet yesterday, Hermione- I'm awfully sorry about what happened with your parents," she added, her wide blue eyes awash with sympathy. Hermione visibly bristled at this.

"Thanks," she replied, politely, though Harry could tell she hated attention drawn to her plight. Luna seemed to pick up on this.

"I know the last thing you'd want is for everyone to go on about it, but I just wanted you to know," she said. Hermione smiled, and nodded in understanding.

"I didn't mean to be curt..."

"But I was unlucky enough to be the fifth or sixth person to mention it- it's okay," Luna replied. There was a brief silence, before Luna piped up once again.

"Were you there?" she asked, casually, as though Hermione's recent brush with Death Eaters was as normal a conversation topic as the weather. Hermione cringed.

"Yes, I was," she replied. Luna tilted her head and glanced at her sideways on.

"Wow," she exclaimed, "that must have been really scary. You were very brave to get through it. The Daily Prophet are nasty- Dad would never have put your story on his front page to try and sell more copies," she announced, proudly. Harry watched as Hermione fought the urge to smile, and failed.

"That's nice to know," she replied. Luna beamed at this, and Harry felt her leg brush against his repeatedly as she jiggled it.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked. Luna looked puzzled for a moment, then looked down at her leg, and laughed.

"Oh, that- I got hit with the Dance of the Deranged about an hour ago. I was going to wait for it to wear off, but I got so tired..." She trailed off, and then looked at him with a smile. "Anyway, I think I'm still experiencing the side-effects. Not to worry- it'll right itself," she explained.

Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for the Ravenclaw girl, but she seemed unperturbed by the actions of her classmates.

"So, what did Snape want with you, anyway?" Neville asked, changing the subject. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Not a lot- just to shout at me, and evidently to give me some exercise," Harry replied, in a deadpan voice. Neville laughed.

"Typical Snape," he replied. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Except he actually gave me that book back- now that isn't so typical at all," he replied. Neville looked at him as though he had just announced that Snape had bought him an ice cream.

"Really?" he gasped. Harry nodded. Ron looked amused.

"Weird," he commented.

"Tell me about it," Harry replied. Hermione nodded.

"Yes, why not just give it you back here?" she asked, and Harry faltered, not wanting to explain in front of Neville and Luna what Snape had said to him.

"I suppose he didn't want to show weakness in front of you lot," Luna mused. "He's rather animalistic in that respect..."

Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Neville stared at her, open-mouthed.

"What?" they asked, collectively. Luna shrugged.

"Animalistic. He's always on the defensive- I'd say he was a victim of bullying, to tell you the truth," she replied, nonchalantly. Neville almost fell out of his seat laughing.

"Snape? Yeah, right- as if he'd be so mean if he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end? I bet he was born vicious!" he said, between giggles. Harry and Hermione both looked at the floor, knowing that Luna's hypothesis was fairly accurate.

"So, what N.E.W.T.s are you two taking?" Neville asked, once he had calmed down. Ginny counted on her fingers as she spoke.

"Hmm; Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts- but that was compulsory, given the situation- and Potions," she replied. Ron gave her a thumbs-up gesture.

"Just like her brother," he teased. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"You'd be surprised how many jobs require those subjects- I've been thinking about going into Magical Forensics- you know, determining how somebody has died, magically speaking, and presenting your findings at the Wizengamot at murder trials," she explained. Neville gave a low whistle.

"Wow- that's pretty competitive, isn't it? Plus, the hours are difficult," he said. Ginny shrugged.

"I can do it- the Magical Murder Department recruit people every year. Besides, I can sleep anywhere, isn't that right, Harry?"

"Yep, that's true," he said, gesturing to the seat where Ginny had curled up asleep during the start of their journey, but feeling himself grow uncomfortably red at her mock-winsome smile.

"What about you, Luna?" Neville asked. Luna smiled dreamily.

"I'm taking Defence, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Charms and Potions," she replied.

"I'm doing Herbology too!" Neville replied, excitedly. Luna looked at him, clearly puzzled.

"Sorry- it's just hardly anybody has taken it in my year- it's nice to meet someone else who's doing it," he explained. "I have to ask, though- why are you taking Potions? I took the first chance I could to be rid of the old git!"

Luna's smile didn't change.

"I want to be an Animal Healer- or perhaps go and study them in various countries. Whichever, I thought I ought to get the qualifications needed for becoming an Animal Healer just in case I decided firmly upon doing that," she explained. "Plus, Potions is one of my favourite classes," she added. Neville looked stunned. He wasn't alone, for Harry noticed Ron and Ginny staring at her as though her head has just spun around three hundred and sixty degrees, and then exploded. Only Hermione remained immune, though Hermione didn't dislike any of her subjects, however irritating the teacher might be. Luna laughed at them.

"Well, it is! I do really well at it, plus Snape likes me," she explained. Harry felt his jaw drop.

"Snape likes you?" he asked, incredulous. "Snape doesn't like anyone, except the Slytherins!"

"He likes me," Luna replied, emphatically, "he always gives me good marks, says nice things about my work, helps me if I get stuck and tells the others off for picking on me. To tell you the truth, I think it only makes them worse, but he can't help that," she added, vaguely.

Ron looked at his watch, and then nudged Hermione.

"Come on, we'd better go and rally the troops," he said. Hermione looked confused for a moment.

"Oh, you mean the students?" she asked. Ron patted the centre of his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"No, I meant the Dark Force Defence League I've hidden in my pocket- of course I mean the students!" he replied, as he got up. Hermione swatted his arm and said something about not being glib.

"What have you got to do?" Harry asked. Ron grimaced.

"Get everyone to grab his or her luggage and exit out of the front of the carriage," he replied.

"We're getting escorted down to the castle by the teachers," Hermione added. Ginny looked confused.

"What about Snape and Per... Beauchamp?" she asked. Hermione managed a weak smile.

"Not enough, I'd imagine. There won't be any Hogsmeade trips this year, either."

"No Hogsmeade?" Neville exclaimed. Luna sighed.

"I suppose it makes sense- it's not like they can send us out there without supervising each and every one of us, and there's definitely not enough staff to do that," she said.

Ron and Hermione walked off, and Harry could hear them ordering the students in each carriage to grab their belongings and queue near the front of the carriage. Harry, Neville, Ginny and Luna went to collect their luggage- Ginny carried Crookshanks in his carrier for Hermione, whereas Luna took care of Pigwidgeon for Ron. Harry and Neville hauled the trunks out of the luggage compartment and waited patiently in the queue. As they slowly made their way towards the front of the train, Luna grabbed a trunk out of one of the compartments and dragged it along with her. Harry could see out of the corner of his eye that somebody had charmed it so that her nametag read 'Loony Lovegood'. She didn't bat an eyelid.

Eventually, they reached the end of the queue. Ron and Hermione were instructing everyone to go to their house teachers, at which point they lost contact with Luna, who wandered over to the group of students gathered around Professor Flitwick. Harry, Neville and Ginny made their way over to Professor McGonagall, who made each student swallow the foul potion they had drank last year, that forced any polyjuiced or transfigured impostors to show their true colours. She then ran her wand along each of their trunks until she was satisfied they were all who they claimed they were, and that none of them were carrying anything dangerous in their possession. The quill hovering above her clipboard then ticked each student off as they were deemed safe and non-counterfeit.

"Right, everyone, into single file please, and get into the carriage, please," McGonagall ordered, as a huge carriage pulled by four Thestrals pulled up alongside them. Although Harry could see the black horses with bat-like wings, he knew that most of his housemates could not, for one had to have witnessed a death before being able to see them. He shook away the thought that many of these pupils would no doubt soon be able to see them, before boarding the carriage with Ginny and Neville. Ron and Hermione quickly ran on, after McGonagall had performed the same security measures on them, then she and Persephone boarded the carriage last of all, and the Thestrals pulled away.

"Well, so far, so good," Hermione panted, sitting down next to Ginny, who was too busy greeting Dean Thomas to notice. Ron averted his eyes from the scene, and instead looked steadfastly at Harry.

"Have you noticed that the security in this school is tighter than that of the Ministry?" he commented. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I had," he replied. Dean broke away from Ginny for a moment to laugh.

"Well, in our House alone, we've got the Boy Who Lived, and two of the Minister for Magic's children," he commented, breezily, before casting a wary glance at Hermione.

"Hey," he said, quietly, "I read the _Prophet_ yesterday..." He trailed off at Hermione's look.

"I know, I know- you're sorry," she replied, bitterly, and then looked horrified at her reply. Dean looked straight at her, and gave her a lopsided smile.

"Actually, I was going to congratulate you on surviving," he replied.

There was a moment of utter silence, and then, all of a sudden, Hermione burst out laughing.

"Thanks, Dean- you've no idea how much that means to me!" she said, hugging him with such fervour, he didn't seem to know what to do. Instead, he just patted her gingerly on the back. Ron leant over to him and whispered in his ear, "I think she's fed up of being mollycoddled over the whole affair."

Dean nodded in understanding, and allowed himself to hug Hermione with a bit more ease.

The carriage ground to a stop, and McGonagall got off the carriage, followed by Persephone, who Harry noticed was carrying a tiny dog in her arms.

"Everybody please follow Professor Beauchamp to your common-room. She will give you the password once to get there, and tick you off her register. You are to unpack, and be in the Great Hall by no later that five o'clock," she announced. Persephone clapped her hand together.

"All right, you lot, follow me!" she practically bellowed, and the students filed though the main entrance after her. Harry looked across the corridor, and noticed Hagrid was escorting the Hufflepuffs to their common-room off the main hall, Madam Hooch was escorting the Ravenclaws to the west side of the castle, with a wistful looking Luna dawdling slightly behind the rest of them, whilst Professor Sinistra led the Slytherins down into the dungeons.

On the way along the corridor, Harry spotted Albus Dumbledore, their headmaster, and gave him a cheery wave. He peered though his half-moon spectacles, then returned Harry's wave.

"Well, hello, Harry," he said, beaming, "and how are you? Glad to be back after the holidays?" he asked, with a wink. Harry smiled.

"Definitely good to be back, sir," he replied. Dumbledore smiled.

"Indeed, indeed... and Ronald, I hear congratulations are in order for your father," he announced. Ron grinned.

"Yeah- he was more surprised than anyone when he got in," Ron said. Ginny poked him sharply in the ribs.

"Ron!" she barked, before turning to Dumbledore.

"Thank you, headmaster," she replied, giving Ron a quick glare. Dumbledore chuckled.

"I'm really going to miss you Weasleys once you've left. It'll be the end of an era," he said, almost wistfully, before looking across at Hermione. His expression swiftly became more grave.

"Hermione," he said, taking one of her hands and gripping it tightly with both of his. "I hope you are alright after that dreadful attack."

Hermione smiled weakly.

"I'm fine, headmaster," she replied, though Harry noticed that Dumbledore's words had made her neither angry or on edge. Dumbledore shook his head.

"Severus told me all about it, and how Alexandra has sorted out your parents' affairs," he whispered, knowingly. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione all knew exactly what he meant.

"I was lucky they were there," Hermione replied. Dumbledore didn't release his grip.

"If you need anything- anything at all, whether it's to talk, or you just want a bit of time away from your fellow Gryffindors, my door is always open," he said, kindly. Hermione nodded.

"Thank you, sir," she replied. Dumbledore smiled, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

"You're a courageous girl, I'm sure you'll get though this," he said, before grimacing slightly.

"What's the matter, sir?" Ron asked. Dumbledore sighed, and crunched something between his teeth. He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a bag with the words 'Rhubarb and Custard' written along the side.

"It's these sweets," he complained. "They're one of my favourites, yet for some reason, they don't taste quite the way I remember. They seem very bitter," he explained. He opened out the bag a little, and offered them to the four. Harry, Ginny and Hermione declined, but Ron took one.

"Thanks, sir," he said, as he popped the two-coloured boiled sweet into his mouth. He sucked it for a moment, as though he were a wine critic mentally debating the subtle undertones of the flavour, and then said, "It tastes alright to me, sir."

Dumbledore sighed again.

"Oh well, perhaps my taste buds have changed with my age," he suggested sadly, "I don't recall them tasting like this earlier this morning... Anyway, you four had better catch up with Professor Beauchamp- if she's anything like her father, I think she may well begin to count tardiness as the eighth deadly sin," he joked, before saying goodbye and wandering along the corridor to the Great Hall, where Harry had noticed the other four Heads of House had gone.

"We'd better catch up," Ron said, jerking his thumb towards the group of tiny-looking Gryffindors that were at the end of the corridor. Harry nodded, and the four of them ran as fast as they could down the corridor, dragging their trunks behind them.


End file.
